


Ecdysiasticon: A Scientist's Guide to Love and Stripping

by dot11



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Mission Fic, POV Jemma Simmons, POV Leo Fitz, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Strip Tease, Stripper!Fitz, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot11/pseuds/dot11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small snag in a routine mission forces Shield’s favorite scientists to go undercover in a way that makes one of them reveal a bit more than he ever expected.</p>
<p> <strong>Ecdysiast</strong> <em>[ek-<strong>diz</strong>-ee-ast]</em> An erotic dancer who removes their clothes as a form of entertainment;<br/><strong>-icon</strong> <em>[ih-kon]</em> A book or work used as a collection or resource.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flirtation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fitzsimmonshield (fitzsimmonsshield)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsshield/gifts).



>  
> 
> Companion Playlist on [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/dot11/ecdysiasticon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Flirtation** _[flur- **tey** -shuh-n]_: Behavior that demonstrates a sexual attraction to someone.  
> Behavior that arouses sexual feelings or advances without emotional commitment.

This was it. This was how I was going to die. No matter how much I'd prepared for this moment, no matter how much I'd trained and practiced, nothing could prepare me for the fear that welled up in my chest when faced with reality. I wasn't going to make it. A silence fell ominously, drowning out everything but my thundering heartbeat. There was no going back. No escape. The spotlight flooded the stage and I looked up with a snap.

### FITZ

We shouldn't have been so hard on Hunter. I know that now. I suppose I can chalk it all up to excess nerves with having been put in that situation to begin with... but it was just so easy at the time. One thing has become abundantly clear through this whole fiasco: Karma really is a cruel Bitch.

"So you're all oiled up then?"

"What?"

"You're oiled up? For your big show?" I leaned back against the bar with my arms crossed, trying hard, I'd like to think, to keep my smug grin to myself.

"Can't hear you mate, music's too loud!"

Simmons caught my eye and she tossed me a rag with a grin. Hunter was obviously dodging the question. We knew he'd packed enough baby oil to get an elephant slick. 

"Great costume, sexy!" Simmons leaned across the bar, close enough that he had no reason to pretend he couldn't hear her. "It’s really caught your essence. All that glitter is just so _you,_ babe."

Hunter slammed his empty glass down on the counter and stood. "One, it's not _glitter_ , it's a manly metallic accent," he adjusted his glitter-lined vest. I slipped Simmons a high-five. “Second, I _do_ look rather dashing, thank you. You should be so jealous,” he glanced down smugly at Simmons and my far simpler outfits. We were bartenders. Nothing outrageous about it. Unlike Hunter.

“Absolutely,” Simmons grinned. “Bobbi must be beside herself. Don't know how she's letting you get up there in front of everyone."

“Anything for the team,” Hunter brushed off. “I think she’s more excited to see what I accomplish with that pole.”

We both rolled our eyes. “Didn't Dixie say that was for the more advanced-”

Hunter shot me a look of outrage, and we both bit back our grins. “ _I_ just feel sorry for you two, really,” Hunter retorted. “Stuck behind this tiny bar all night. Madwomen crowding from all sides. It's going to be absolute mayhem, you realize. I doubt you'll be able to keep up with it all."

Simmons and I exchanged a look again. Poor Hunter.

"Us? Keep up?" Simmons raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem."

"No?" He looked suspiciously between the two of us, slowly, thinking of how to catch us at our own game. "Long Island Iced Tea on the rocks with a twist," he barked, starting his watch.

I immediately reached out and flipped a wet glass from the counter, tossing some ice into the bottom as Simmons spun around and pulled a pair of bottles off the rack. She slipped them around her back, turning around just in time to pour the steady streams of liquid into the glass as I slid it into place across the counter. Quick as a flash, I sliced a lime in a perfect curl and slipped it onto the edge of the glass while Simmons finished up and presented the cup to Hunter with a flourish. He took a sip and stopped the clock. Simmons and I gave each other a high-five without looking.

"Impressive," he sniffed.

"Fitz and I went through the entire handbook last night as a refresher," Simmons crowed. Seriously, she simply lit up at the prospect of homework, even when it should have been fun. I chose to ignore the way Hunter raised his eyebrows at me. If there had been anything to tell from a night of cocktails with my partner, he would already know. Simmons and I were far too versed around alcohol for that to ever have an effect on our relationship. I had tested this theory for years. Years.

Simmons barreled on excitedly, oblivious to Hunter's little look. "We mastered all the possible cocktail combinations at the academy, but it never hurts to re-master an old skill," she stuck her nose in the air.

It's true. Back at the academy she and I had a brief stint as bartenders at the Boiler Room. She'd insisted it would be an easy way to get some extra spending money while basically conducting chemistry experiments. We quickly realized that we didn't have nearly enough time to cover all the shifts _and_ graduate early, though.

"Go on, give us another," Simmons chirped, almost too eagerly. I put a hand on her shoulder to settle her. She glanced back at me, catching my eye for a moment, then rested back on her heels to keep from bouncing. I paid no attention to the jolt of electricity that shot through my hand where I touched her. I had to remember to stop doing that.

Hunter shook his head at us, amused, and slurped loudly on his straw. "Well, at least that's one small glimmer of hope to be had for this little adventure," he stood and surveyed the club.

"And what's that?"

"You two really need to get laid," he laughed. Simmons dropped her mouth open in disgust. "What better place than a male strip club, eh?" Hunter lifted his glass to cheers us and walked away.

Simmons turned to me and huffed.

"Nah, he's just jealous," I said quickly, before she could go on another tirade about Hunter’s manners. I wasn't really in the mood to hear it right now. He wasn't wrong.

“Without question,” Simmons picked up a glass and gave it a thorough wipe. “At least _our_ skills are transferable.”

I didn't know what to say to that. I shook my head, realizing I’d been watching her attack that cup a little too closely. While our outfits were simple in comparison to Hunter's, she managed to look fantastic in hers. It highlighted more of her curves than I had ever really noticed before… And I was a professional that needed to focus, not a lovesick ape with a wandering mind. I turned to adjust the equipment beneath the bar.

Our latest mission had brought us to _Big_ _Dixie's_ , a relatively well-known male strip club. We were tracking down a Hydra Agent that had a thumb-drive database of all former Shield Agents and their whereabouts. We didn't know what the agent looked like, but the chatter Daisy had picked up pointed to this club as a popular point of contact for her. Of course. Why stick with the old abandoned warehouse standby when you could get a show? I _almost_ envied the Hydra Agent’s bravado. But when a half-naked man built like Adonis sauntered by the bar, Simmons and my heads both followed him as one. _Almost_ envied the Agent's bravado. I crossed my arms.

Simmons and I were positioned as bartenders in order to monitor the surveillance tech up close. Hunter had happily volunteered to pose as one of the "dancers" in order to get close enough to identify and tag the agent with the help of Bobbi, who would be in the audience. It was meant to be a quick and easy job, so we had a pretty small team assembled. 

The owner of the club was in on our sting. Dixie, an old friend of May's, oddly enough, was a firecracker who'd been in this business longer than I had been alive. She took one look at Hunter and gave him a headlining dance. He must have had the confidence she was looking for or something - not that I was jealous about being passed over as the only other male on the mission, mind you. I just assumed he would be a bartender with me, and Simmons and Bobbi would pose as audience members. I was glad that Simmons and I ended up behind the bar together though. She could get pretty uppity about this sort of place, but something about the prospect of watching her even pretend to get excited at the show sent my stomach churning. As it was, we were probably both happy that she was distracted with creating drinks. Adonis still received a healthy dose of death-glares to be safe.

I'd been acutely aware of my feelings growing for Simmons for some time now. It was inconvenient is what it was. Who knows why these things happen? One day you're side by side with your pal, happy as can be, then suddenly everything changes. Suddenly your heart leaps at the sight of her. Every time she places a hand on your shoulder, your skin burns like fire.  

Ignoring it was the best medicine, I've found. It's what worked best with all the other little crushes I'd had over the years. Wait long enough without any encouragement, and the feelings will subside and go back to normal. Unfortunately, Simmons and I were having far too much contact in the field, far too many near-death experiences. She still had shown absolutely no interest in me _that_ way, and even with our increasingly prolonged separations and disagreements, my feelings weren't going away. I was in trouble and I knew it.

"Hey Tiger," a short red-head popped up at the bar, interrupting my musings. She had a cheap glittery tiara on her head that read _Bride to Be._ She leaned over the counter to speak above the club’s music. We were between dances at the moment. "Can I get a round of Amaretto Sours?"

It took me a moment to catch up to what she was requesting, but Simmons, overhearing like the professional she was, immediately spun around and grabbed a few glasses. So I went for the bottles. We did our thing, but when we placed the drinks on the counter for her, the red-head didn't grab them right away. She grinned up at me. I grinned back, happy to earn a tip or two during our shift. Then, to my immense surprise, she reached over the counter with a devilish grin and tucked a few bills soundly into the front of my trousers. I didn't have time to do anything but gape down at the money sticking up from my pants. Her hands lingered for just a few moments, and she gave me a wink before hopping back down. "That's just for you Tiger," she grinned and spun away.

I was in shock. If I'm being honest, I found it very difficult to form thoughts after that. I'd never had anyone do anything remotely like that to me before and, well. I'm a man. It was sexy. Forgive my biology.

I stood there blinking until I was able to look up at Simmons. Her mouth was equally agape, but she closed it quickly and nodded at me with approval.

"Might as well put it in the pot," she shrugged. "We both earned that tip."

Sighing internally, I shut my eyes and tenderly untucked the bills from my waist. Of course, one of the hottest things to ever happen to me, and Simmons was completely unaffected. Naturally. Yet another reason for me to give up hoping for something to happen there. If only the rest of my body could agree with that logic.

The red-head was apparently just the start of it. The rush of women had begun to crowd behind the bar, and I didn’t have much more time to pout over how Simmons may or may not have reacted for the thousandth time. The swarm pushed forward, thrusting money at us in a giddy frenzy. Simmons and I looked at each other. We were prepared for this. And like everything we put our minds to, Simmons and I were exceptional bartenders.

When the music eventually turned up again, the crowd thinned as the ladies grabbed their seats. Bobbi was situated in the audience close to the stage so she could get the best view. Simmons nudged my arm. We had our duties to perform during the show, naturally, with detectors and the like. But mostly we needed footage. Neither of us were going to miss Hunter’s humiliation. We needed to get as much footage of this as possible banked for later and inevitable blackmail purposes.

The lights dimmed. The music hummed to life. The spotlight flooded the stage. And then there was Hunter in all his bedazzled glory.

**_Girl Look at That Body_** **,  
** Hunter struck a pose.

**_Girl Look at That Body,  
_** He untucked his shirt from his trousers and shot the crowd a cheeky smile.

**_Girl Look at That Body,_ **  
The first button was off. He thrust his hips.

**_I work out!  
_** He ripped the shirt open with an audible * _thwip*_.

**_When I walk in the spot, this is what I see.  
_** Apparently Hunter could Moon-walk. He raised his arms, hyping up the audience.

**_Everybody stops and they staring at me.  
_** He did a body roll, rubbing his hands down his bare chest to cover his crotch.

**_I got passion in my pants and I aint afraid to show it…  
_** He paused, then threw his shirt off into the crowd. Bobbi casually throttled a woman and grabbed it. Cheering. The prefect cover.

**_I’m sexy and I know it!_ **

Hunter was off, running around the stage, gyrating his hips in different directions, throwing winks and teases out to the screaming women who responded by throwing dollar bills up at him. He was loving it.

“You know, that requires far more athleticism than we give him credit for,” Simmons cocked her head to the side. Hunter being good at this really shouldn’t have been surprising. He knew just how to milk the crowd into a frenzy. With each hit of the beat, he thrust his pelvis or did some fancy dance move. It _was_ pretty entertaining. He was clearly having a great time, and so was Bobbi, who started whooping when her ex-husband singled her out and climbed off the stage towards her. "I mean, think of the endurance needed to maintain the pelvic gyration at such a speed as to actually appear attractive..." 

"It's simple physics, Simmons," I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "At the right angle, anyone with minimal abdominal strength could manage something like that."

"Oh and I suppose you could too, could you?" She turned to face me.

I coughed. "Well, in theory, I suppose yes. I could," I ducked my head to check the surveillance monitors so she couldn't see my face. "What are you implying?"

Simmons took a moment before responding. “Five bucks says you couldn't.” I paused what I was doing and turned to stare at her. Should I feel offended by that challenge, or aroused? She pushed on. “Like everything else, I was partnered with you at the academy during our dance elective, Fitz," she needled. "I know what you're working with.”

I took a deep breath. We were back in the safe waters of our usual banter. "That was a long time ago, Jemma," I stood to defend myself. "And I'll have you know, we _both_ passed the dance elective at the top of our class, thank you very much."

"No thanks to you!” She put her hands on her hips. “If we hadn't been partnered together and I hadn't insisted on late-night rehearsals, you would have brought us both down to your level."

“ _My_ level was both cultured and elegant," I countered. "None of your _by the book_ nonsense."

"Well that's beside the point. Ballroom dancing is very different from this. This has _far_ less rules I’d imagine..."

“You’re the one that wouldn’t be able to handle it,” I grumbled.

**_Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!_ **

We both turned at the sound of particularly loud screams by the stage. Hunter was down to a thong and was standing on Bobbi's chair, shaking his rear in her face to the music.

"Oh, goodness," Simmons gasped and turned away. "Looks like they've quite got the hang of this!"

I probably should have turned away too. The whole thing had become more intimate than needed an audience. He slid down to her lap and started rolling his hips against her. She squealed with delight. Lord praise the woman for being such a professional. I have no doubt she was continuing to case the joint through all of this, but it was distracting enough for me. I couldn't look away. I mean, I'm no pervert or anything - and absolutely _not_ as far as Hunter's concerned. It was... well, honestly, my mind kept throwing myself into the same scenario... with Simmons.

Every time he moved his hands through her hair, stroked the side of her hip, every time she threw her head back in delight… it wasn't Bobbi and Hunter I was seeing. It was Jemma and... me. What noises would she make if those were my hands? Would she bite her lip if I rolled against her?

I took a steadying breath and risked a look over to where Simmons was adjusting the knobs of the equipment. Fantasies were cruel sometimes. How could she stand there next to me looking like that? How could I stand there and even think of myself with my partner, let alone being in a situation like _that_ with her? I cleared my throat, starting to feel overheated. There wasn't enough space back here. I needed a moment to clear my head.

"I, uh, I'm going to go grab some extra ice from the back room," I rushed off without a backward glance.

This was getting to be too much. How was I supposed to constantly be around her if my mind kept wandering like this? We had a mission, for God’s sake. Lives depended on us. All I could picture was how she would react under my hands… What the dip of her waist would feel like... What her lips would taste like… I threw myself into the back room and I pounded my fist against the wall. I needed to get a grip.

“Hey man, this private spot is taken,” a low voice echoed from the shadows. “Don’t whip anything out or nothing.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, straightening. “Didn’t know anyone was back here.”

A tall muscular man stepped out, apparently attempting to dust himself with body glitter. “You’re here with that chick bartender right?”

“Yeah, she’s, ah, she’s my partner,” I breathed. I needed to get out of there and find a new room to be alone.

“Figures," he shrugged. "Dixie rarely lets chick bartenders into the joint unless she’s got a good reason. Watching the two of you, looks like you’ve really got something.”

“Yeah," I shook my head. "We're a good team.”

“So how long you two been married?”

I coughed and stared at the man. “What? No, no no, we're not m – why would we- that’s not what-”

“Relax, my mistake man," he chuckled, rubbing some glitter over his chest. "You two just got a good comfortable rhythm.” I pursed my lips together in response. “So not married then?" He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. "You’ve gotta at least be hitting that though, right?”

“Definitely _not_ ,” I croaked, trying my best to look indignant.

“So you swing for the other team then?”

“N-N- That’s not even-!” This was getting ridiculous. I needed to get out of there. I should probably get back to Simmons and the equipment by now.

“Nah worth a shot. I’m Angel by the way,” he offered a hand.

I sighed and stepped forward to return the shake, feeling trapped. “Fitz.”

“So, Fitz... Don’t mind me prying, but you seem awful pissed,” he gestured to the wall that I had just become acquainted with.

“No, sorry, it’s nothing,” I ducked my head. "Sorry to disturb you. Carry on with your, er..." I gestured to the glitter, "or whatever."

“Dude, no. We look out for our own here,” Angel put himself between me and the door. “If you're not _on_ , the team's not on. What's got you off?”

“Er, well, I..." The man stared at me, refusing to let me pass unless I fessed up. I shook my head again and shrugged. "I-It's her. I suppose.” I rubbed the back of my head absently, not sure what to say. “She- Simmons. She and I- Well, we… And ever since…”

“Oh man, stop!" Angel chuckled knowingly. "Say no more, I know _exactly_ what you mean." He placed a glittering sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "Let me give you the one piece of advice that I give all our new dancers," he said. "You’re always gonna question yourself on the inside," he placed his other hand on my chest. "But if you keep focusing on _you_ and don’t make it about _her_ , you’re never going to get a tip.”

I sighed. “That’s not the problem. She just doesn’t see me that way.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“Well, I…”

“Let’s take that as a no,” Angel made a face and lightly punched me on the arm. “If you don’t know for sure, then you haven’t been taking the right risks.”

His advice was coming from a good place, but I still felt appropriately uncomfortable standing alone in a back room with a glittery male stripper who had his hands on me. How was I going to get all this glitter off?

“Maybe I-"

“No maybes” he held a finger in front of my face. “Tonight you put the moves on her. See what comes of it. If you get a bite, great. But if not, no harm no foul. Then you’ll be able to move on, right?”

“But I-”

“No _buts_ , man. Just do us all a favor and go for it,” he winked. "For the team." Angel gave me a firm pat on the ass then floated out of the room as though he’d solved world hunger.

I sighed. This night was almost over. With any luck we'd be back at the base bright and early tomorrow. Back in a normal setting with normal risks where things didn't constantly catch me off guard.

  

### SIMMONS

I was appropriately offended when we were first given the parameters for the mission. A strip club? Of all the demeaning, deplorable forms of human entertainment we’ve had to suffer through, this must by far have been the lowest. Though if I’m being completely honest, I was a bit thrilled - especially when it turned out to be a _male_ strip club we would be stationed at.

My life has not been sheltered by any stretch of the imagination, but attending a strip club was one of the few badges of honor I had never had the privilege of partaking in up to that point. I had a general idea of what to expect from films and the like, but even then I don’t think I was fully prepared for what was to come.

The first night, everything went according to plan. At least to start. I had happily dressed for the occasion in my most flamboyant dotted shirt and a flashy red blazer that matched Fitz's. But when we knocked on her motel door to head over to the club, Bobbi took one look at us, and simply said: “No.”

“But we match!” I explained, hoping she’d see reason. “We’re supposed to be a bar-tending duo,” I pointed to our matching blazers. “Is red not a sexy enough color? I told you we should have gone with magenta, Fitz.”

“I’m not running around wearing hot-pink, Simmons,” he hissed. “A man has to maintain some dignity!” I snorted. 

Bobbi merely raised an eyebrow at us as she rifled through Hunter’s bags. "Fitz - here, put this on and roll up the sleeves,” she tossed him a black button-up. “Now Simmons…" she rounded on me and sighed. I felt particularly self-conscious under her scrutiny. She looked back at Fitz and Hunter wearily. "We’ll have to meet you there."

_That_ wasn't intimidating. I've always been rather proud of my style choices. A little daring, perhaps, but always professional. My wardrobe would never pass approval for typical lab standards, but I had decided that adaptability to my surroundings was the better choice when I’d begun working in the field. Professionalism _in context_ is equally as important.

“Is there a problem?” I asked when it was just us girls.

Bobbi was pulling things out of her bag and eyeing me. “You didn’t happen to pack a push-up bra, did you?”

“What possible purpose would I have for such an uncomfortable contraption?”

“It’s fine," she replied. "Just put on another regular one then so you’re wearing two. Good enough in a pinch.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Jemma, trust me, you’re not wearing that to a strip club,” she gestured to my blazer specifically. “You'll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“But I’m only the bartender. At a _male_ strip club,” I pointed out. “I hardly think anyone will care what I’m wearing.”

“Seriously?” She looked at me dryly. “You don't think _anyone_ will be ogling you behind that bar? Anyone at all?"

I shrugged. Bobbi rolled her eyes patiently. "At the very least, it's a place teeming with other women. Did you miss high school or something?”

“As a matter of fact-”

“You know what? Silly question,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just change into these quickly and then we’ll deal with your hair.” She thrust a rather small pile of clothes into my hands.

Deal with my hair? I held up the short black skirt in disbelief. It was more of a belt than anything. There was no way it was going to cover me properly. I opened my mouth to protest, but Bobbi shot me a firm look. “And don’t forget to put your other bra on.”

About half an hour later, Bobbi had managed to squeeze me into her version of what a female bartender at a male strip club should be wearing. Needless to say I was both chilly and finding it difficult to breathe. It was a small mercy that my shoe-size was much smaller than hers so that she couldn’t force me into the monstrously tall heels she had intended for me. I was wearing far too much makeup and my hair felt like it had been sprayed into place after going through a wind-tunnel. But I will say this: my boobs never looked better!

I absently tried to pull the skirt down a bit. That did very little, so instead I reached to do up a few buttons on my shirt - but Bobbi swatted my hand away quickly.  

"Hey, hands off," she scolded. "You’re blending in."

Blending in. I smiled apprehensively. My mother used to say that to me when she was trying to convince me to dress a little more daringly for school. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was very glad my mother wasn't there to see this version of blending in.

We arrived at the club later than I would have liked. When we walked through the door, Hunter gave a loud, piercing whistle of approval. I felt the rush of heat creep up my neck, which nicely counteracted the cool breeze biting at my uncovered skin. I pasted a smile on and tried to avoid making eye contact with Fitz. Hunter was just being rowdy for Bobbi.

"Simmons, you clean up nice!" He howled. "Hold on, no. There's not much _clean_ about any of that, eh Fitz?"

I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously until I caught Fitz' expression. I followed his gaze down, then quickly dropped my arms to my sides. Apparently that position only managed to accentuate my assets. I’d have to remember not to cross my arms.

"Well that's certainly... different than we’d planned," Fitz said quietly, frowning.

I tucked a strand of my massive hair behind my ears and tried to push the skirt down to no avail. "That's kind of the point, Fitz." I marched behind the bar, extremely aware of his eyes following me. “We're blending in,” I picked up a rag to wipe the counter. “Besides, it’s nothing compared to Hunter!”

Fitz considered, then cocked his head to the side. He took in Hunter's outfit properly, and after a beat, a devilish grin crept up his face. He glanced over at me to make sure I was playing along.

“So you’re all oiled up then?”

When Fitz turned on him, I let out a breath of relief. I had successfully diverted the attention away from me and my ridiculous costume. So then why was I feeling less than pleased?

"Great costume, sexy!" I leaned across the bar, paying strict attention to where I angled my chest. "It’s really caught your essence. All that glitter is just so _you_ , babe."

Fitz carried on expertly as I puzzled over his reaction to what I was wearing. I don’t know why, but it was honestly starting to bother me. I'd been starting to feel powerful and sexy before seeing his face. Now I wasn’t so sure. _Was_ it all a bit much? I trusted Bobbi's judgement in these matters, but I didn’t want Fitz thinking of me any differently... Right?  

When Hunter challenged us to make him a drink with our newly perfected bar-tending skills, I was happy for the focus to be on that. Something to do! I’ve always got a particular thrill from working in tandem with Fitz, but as soon as he grabbed the glass from the counter, I knew it felt different than what we’d practiced last night. It felt different from any other night before, for that matter. I was overly aware of where my hands were, of where Fitz was standing in the small space behind the bar. Did I suddenly not trust him? That couldn’t be it. Where we were normally seamless, I was pausing at odd moments while his back was turned. I nearly dropped one of the liqueur bottles as I spun it around my back like we'd practiced thousands of times. What had changed? These were the very same steps.

I finally presented the glass to Hunter, saving it at the last minute from a disastrous fumble. Fitz gave me a supportive high-five. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

“Impressive,” he said suspiciously. He hadn't noticed anything off too, had he?

"Fitz and I went through the entire handbook _last night_ as a refresher," I explained, afraid that Hunter would comment on the slight pauses in my usually seamless workflow. "We mastered all the possible cocktail combinations at the academy, but it never hurts to re-master an old skill," I went on, hoping that this was a decent explanation as to why I might be a bit off. "Go on, give us another," I challenged, eager to test my skills again.

Before Hunter could name another drink, Fitz put a hand on my shoulder in our universal signal for the other to tone it down. I hadn't realized I was going off about it all. Another anomaly! My self-awareness was not up to my usual standards. As if on cue, I became suddenly very conscious of where Fitz's hand touched my shoulder. There was a sort of stillness - which had always been there I suppose, but it was newly accompanied by a sort of heated energy. I turned to look at him quickly. Did he feel that too? What was going on?

"You two really need to get laid," Hunter snickered.

My mouth fell open. He _had_ noticed! Oh God. But _that_ couldn't be the reason - of all the vulgar assumptions to jump to. This was workplace harassment is what it was! He had no business in our personal lives. Jokes like that were in extremely poor taste, especially considering our current surroundings! I turned to Fitz in a huff and was about to vocalize my disapproval when I realized how uncomfortable he looked. Poor Fitz was redder than the grenadine bottle. I blinked and remained silent.

"Nah, he's just jealous," Fitz muttered. 

"Without question," I agreed. I decided this was no time to further investigate the inconsistencies in my performance, or the strange sensation his touch had caused. We had a mission to do, and I was a professional. "At least _our_ skills are transferable," I said casually as though nothing was wrong. Whatever was going on with me, I would make sure the mission was a success first and foremost.

I tried to prepare myself for the onslaught of women, but was surprised that only one young bride-to-be sauntered up to the bar to start. I smiled and asked how I could assist her, but she ignored me completely. At first I thought she must not have heard me over the loud music, so I moved closer and tried again. She glared at me, then locked her eyes on my oblivious partner.

"Hey Tiger," she drawled, finally catching Fitz' attention. He snapped his head up with big dopey eyes. She positioned herself over the counter strategically to accentuate the swell of her breasts in her skimpy top. Well, honestly! "Can I get a round of Amaretto Sours?"

She was _flirting_ with him! A _bride_ out at a strip club, _flirting_ with the wait staff! I was astonished. Was there no such thing as loyalty anymore? What was her future husband doing right this moment while she was smiling and giving Fitz their hard-earned wedding money?

I was already prepared with the glasses, so I began making the drinks. Fitz finished off with our practiced flourish. The Bride fluttered her overly made-up eyes at him, continuing to ignoring me. That alone was enough to set me on edge - but then, bold as you please, the girl leaped up on the counter and forced a couple of bills into the front of Fitz’s trousers.

All I could do was stare in shock. I had to quell the sudden instinct to slap this young tart away from him. Who was she to touch Fitz like that? She was to be a married woman! Luckily my SHIELD training took over, and I took a steadying breath. We were undercover, and this was normal behavior for an institution of ill-repute. I counted to ten, and she sauntered off, overly pleased with herself.

"Might as well put it in the pot," I said as calmly as possible. My hands were shaking. "We both earned that tip!"

It wasn't until that moment that I realized we probably should have stayed back at the Motel to do surveillance. There was no real need for us to be on location, and Fitz just wasn't ready for the type of clientele that would approach us. The sooner this mission was complete, the better. As more women swarmed up to the bar and ogled Fitz for their drinks, I found myself actually looking forward to getting back to the simplicity of powers and supernatural occurrences.

When Hunter’s performance began, it wasn’t surprising to me that he would pull off the strip tease with such gusto. He was clearly enjoying the attention, and Bobbi seemed pleased that he, in turn, directed a lot of his attention to her. I found myself staring at them with a mixture of awe and… something I couldn’t identify.

I cleared my throat when he ripped off his shirt, and did my best to change the subject. I’m not entirely sure that I succeeded. I blame the tight top Bobbi had squeezed me into for cutting off oxygen to my brain. It was oddly hard to breathe. I’m afraid I may have begun babbling in an attempt to neutralize the situation. I vaguely realized partway through that I appeared to be challenging Fitz to do a lap dance with as much prowess. What was I _saying_?

**_Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!_ **

We both spun around at the sound of particularly loud screams. Hunter was standing on Bobbi's chair, shaking his rear in her face to the music. The crowd was loving it.

"Oh, goodness," I gasped and turned away to busy myself with the monitors. "Looks like they've quite got the hang of this!"

Fitz stared, dumbfounded, and I had to agree that it was oddly difficult to focus on the task at hand. I kept glancing over at Fitz to make sure he was okay. After a few minutes, he made some silly excuse and rushed off. Poor Fitz. I stood and watched him walk off as the song ended and Hunter scooped up as many dollar bills from the stage as he could shove into his G-string.

I was about to duck back down to the equipment to clear my head, when a tall blonde sat down at one of the bar stools. Bobbi took a sip of her drink, composed and professional.

“So how are things on this end?”

“All tip top,” I waited for the crack in her composure. “And clearly things are going well on your end by the looks of it?”

Bobbi waved a hand off, but I didn’t miss the slight smile creep up the corner of her mouth. “I’m just glad he wasn’t allowed to try the pole. This was honestly one of Hunter’s tamer performances. You should see his dance for American Woman.”

“Thank goodness _that_ won’t be necessary,” I made a face. “It’s safe to say I’ve seen far more of Hunter than I ever cared to.”

Bobbi grinned to herself, slowly breaking out of her agent persona. Thankfully. I needed my friend’s advice right now. “Where’s Fitz?”

“Oh, he ran off to fetch more ice,” I said, thinking of how to bring up my concerns about my performance.

“Of course he did,” Bobbi smiled, trying to catch my eye. “Feeling a bit cramped back there?”

I frowned and opened my mouth to retort. Yes, it was! But I didn’t like her implication. “I don’t think that’s necessarily the problem,” I explained. “But something is off. I’m not quite sure what, but something’s different with our usual…”

“FitzSimmonsing?”

I gave her a look. Combining our names was one thing, but turning us into a verb was going a bit far.

“Is Fitz distracted?” Bobbi hid her grin very poorly for such a good agent.

“Not at all!” I huffed. “He’s the picture of professionalism and efficiency, actually.” I sighed. That’s what was bothering me. “Truth be told, _I’m_ the one that can’t seem to focus on anything. And this ridiculous outfit doesn’t help things! It’s completely uncomfortable. As predicted, nobody’s given me a second glance. Nor should they.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Bobbi casually took a sip of her drink.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling irritated and self-conscious.

Bobbi looked away. “Well I really don’t want to overstep…” I glared down at her. “Okay. It’s just that you said Fitz went to grab more ice?”

“Of course. We’re running low,” I waited for the point.

She raised an eyebrow at the ice bucket on the counter. It was full.

I chewed on my lip. “Well he’s simply being pragmatic and thinking ahead. There will be another rush soon and-”

“Simmons.” I stopped, wringing my hands together. “Have you really never seen the way he looks at you?” I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. I shook my head once to the side, thoughtfully, like a question. “I could see it from across the room tonight, and I had _Hunter_ all up in my face,” Bobbi curved her mouth into a knowing grin.

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” I tugged at the hem of my skirt. “He’s probably just distracted or...” I shook my head. “Trust me, Fitz does _not_ think of me that way!”

Really, people always tried to pair us together. It’s as though they didn’t believe friendships between a male and a female were possible. I must admit that even _I_ thought about it when we first met so long ago, though time and experience with Fitz had shown me that he never saw me as anything other than a friend. I’d seen him develop crushes on people. He became mopey and obsessive and frankly rather irritating about it. If he ever fancied me, which is unlikely, I would know about it. But we had long since passed that window in our relationship.

“You sure about that?” Bobbi nodded smugly as Fitz headed back over. Empty handed.

“Hey Fitz,” Bobbi waved at him. He looked over absently, still appearing a bit overwhelmed. “Needed a bit of a cool-off?”

“What? No, I was just at the back grabbing…” His face fell, realizing he hadn’t grabbed anything at all. “Right. Well, just taking care of something actually.” He put his hands on his waist and smiled innocently. I glared at Bobbi when she looked at me as if this proved anything.

“No matter,” I waved him off. “Bobbi was just about to tell us about the information she gathered.”

“Later,” Bobbi grinned. “I think there’s still a bit more observing to do,” she caught my eye. I winced but I got the hint. Luckily no one noticed how flushed I'd become, because Hunter had just sauntered over. He spun himself on the stool then put an arm around Bobbi.

"God that was amazing!” He beamed. “I think I may make a permanent career out of this. Did you see how much cash I got from just that?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. Thankfully he had his trousers back on, but his shirt was still hanging open.

Bobbi closed her eyes and did her best not to encourage him. “Why don’t you two show us what you’ve got?” She breathed, slipping seamlessly back into Agent mode.

“Yeah okay,” Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. I watched him bend down to look at one of the monitors we’d installed under the bar, but I had to look quickly away when I realized where my line of sight was about to fall.

Hunter choked. “Hold on, Fitz?” He quickly bobbed his head back up. “Is that _glitter_?”

“What? Er- Oh. Dunno how that happened...” Fitz blushed crimson and tried to dust off the seat of his pants. “Occupational hazard I suppose,” he turned back to the equipment, crouching so his rear was pointing to the floor.

“Oh, Fitz. It’s all over your shirt too!” I sighed.

He stood suddenly and rounded on us. “Can we just please focus? We don’t have time to discuss what may or may not have accidentally drifted onto my clothes. We’ve got a mission in case you’ve forgotten!” Bobbi and I exchanged a glance and closed our mouths firmly. “Thank you.” He turned back around, glaring at Hunter.

“Fitz, you’re actually supposed to check the other-”

“I _know_ , Simmons, but it doesn’t look like that one’s recorded anything, so I’m checking the-”

“What do you mean it hasn’t recorded anything?" Hunter leaned over the bar with a surprisingly concerned look on his face. "Did you not catch my dance?"

"Relax, I turned it on myself. It's been recording this whole time,” I waved off.

“Well then check for yourself,” Fitz grumbled.

I crouched down next to him. He accidentally brushed his arm against mine, and I swallowed. “Well it's there," I focused intently on the equipment. “It-It's just all garbled and wiggly..."

“Talk to me, guys. What’s happening?” Bobbi stood, trying to peer over the bar.

“Well," Fitz stood. "We’ll have to run some diagnostics to see what’s actually happened, but-”

“It looks like what was recorded has gone a bit fuzzy,” I finished.

“Okay, well you guys keep working on it," Bobbi sighed. "If you can't get anything substantial, we’ll need to come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Fitz and I said in unison. We looked at each other, then quickly away.

"Yes!" Hunter whooped and clapped his hands. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Hunter.” Bobbi stared straight at him. “You are _not_ trying the-"

"Yeah, no no. I'm just gonna run and get the guys to show me a few tips for tomorrow..." Hunter jogged off through the crowd. Bobbi sighed.

The rest of the night saw Fitz and I completely swamped trying to tag-team the drinks and subtly fix the equipment before last call. Somehow the space felt smaller than before. We kept bumping into each other and awkwardly apologizing. I was completely on edge.

After my discussion with Bobbi, I was paying closer attention to Fitz. She was right. I caught him staring at me multiple times. When I caught his eye, he would look quickly away. Once or twice he appeared to be about to say something to me, but then he’d either think better of it, or a customer would approach him at the bar. To both of our surprise, he was making an outrageous amount of tips.

Just before last call, as we were beginning to recover the data, the Bride-to-Be from earlier walked by and blew Fitz a goodbye kiss. I frowned. I hadn’t realized it before, but she had glitter all over her too from her tiara… A heavy wave of fire burst through my chest as I put two and two together.

Well. Bobbi appeared to be right about why Fitz had stepped away earlier, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me. I placed the last drink down on the counter a little too hard, still being ignored by the guests in favor of my partner. I shouldn’t be surprised. There were many women here, and he _was_ an objectively handsome man. I would have thought he'd have more class than to go for a woman that was clearly taken, but what did I know? I huffed internally. And it wasn’t any of my business. None at all. Once we got the equipment recovered, we’d be back to the base like this night had never happened. What happens at _Big Dixie's_ stays at _Big Dixie's_.

Not ten minutes after the last guest left the premises did Hunter stir everything back up again. “BOBBI!” he wailed from the stage. “We have a slight problem!” Everyone turned. Hunter was doubled over, holding onto the pole for support.

“Hunter, don’t you _dare_ tell me you tried the-” Bobbi growled.

“Of course I tried it Bobbi, they have a _proper_ pole here. No one was using it.”

“You sound way too smug for someone who can’t stand right now,” Bobbi stormed over

“Can you please just- I don’t want to hear it. Just come help me. And bring an ice pack!”

I shook my head and turned to see Fitz staring at me again. “What?” I snapped. If he was going to keep staring, I wanted to know why. There had been dozens of women mooning all over him, and there should be no reason for him to suddenly turn into an ogling baboon now. Fitz opened his mouth again and froze. Before he could change his mind, I shot him a look that said _spit it out already!_

He smiled apologetically and took a deep breath. “Hold still Jemma,” he reached out and held my arm to keep me in place. My breath caught in surprise as he took a tentative step towards me. He lifted a hand carefully to the side of my face, inches away, and I instinctively fluttered my eyes closed. His warm fingers brushed across my forehead. I felt a piece of hair pull away from my bottom lip, and it sent a sudden uncomfortable jolt down my spine. I made a face. “Sorry, hair stuck to your mouth,” he stepped back sheepishly. “Was bugging me all night.”

“Oh. Right,” I sunk back and released the air from my lungs. “Thanks.” I chewed on my bottom lip to calm the strange sensation. My heart was racing. He turned away to keep tinkering with the equipment. I sighed and started to count the tip jar.

A feeling that I could now distinctly identify as disappointment bubbled up from the pit of my stomach. It was safe to say that Bobbi’s hypothesis had now been officially dis-proven. Yes, he’d been staring at me all night, but it was because of a _hair_ stuck to my face, nothing nearly as romantic as she had hoped. Unfortunately, my attempt at researching her observation had also made me acutely aware of one very significant fact. My feelings for Fitz were not nearly as platonic as I’d always thought. I was in trouble.

After we'd cleared up the bar a bit, Bobbi marched over, looking harassed in a way that only Hunter could make her appear.

“How is he?”

“Hunter is a child,” she glowered. “What was the one thing we all told him not to try? Can you guess what he tried?”

“He didn’t hurt himself did he?” I winced, looking over at the pole.

“Hunter pulled his groin,” Bobbi said flatly, completely unimpressed.

“Oh God,” Fitz paled.  

“So with the tech gone haywire and his majesty out of commission with his ice-pack…”

“Well we’re almost back up and running on our end. We might as well just pack up, call it a mission,” I grinned helpfully, not so subtly pleased to be headed back to the base early.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple… We’ve still got to tag the Hydra Agent. Hunter thinks he identified her, but he didn’t get close enough to track her. We’ll have to come back.”

I bowed my head. It was never that simple.

“And you’re sure Hunter’s really hurt?” Fitz’s face fell as though he’d lost his life savings. “He’ll be okay though, yeah?”

Bobbi offered him an apologetic smile, trying to work out what to say next.

“What are you two on about?” I scoffed. I appeared to be missing the punch-line. “Hunter will be _fine,_ Fitz. He’ll just be a bit sore for a few days.”

“It’s not that…” Fitz choked.

Bobbi sighed, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Fitz, I hate to put you on the spot here, but…”

“There’s got to be someone else we can call though, yeah?” he said stiffly.

“I’m afraid not this time…”

“I don’t understand, what’s the problem?” My mind raced. I was missing something huge.

“Mack? Mack would be great at this.” There was a slight edge of panic to his voice now.

“Mack’s not up to speed on the mission, and you're already prepped. You’re the only one we can bring in at this stage.”

“But you can’t expect me to – to _actually-?!_ ”

“I still don’t-” then I froze, realizing what was happening.

“If there were any other way, believe me, we would try it,” Bobbi shrugged. “No one likes the idea of you going undercover like this, but you’re already established. And I’ve seen your file, Fitz. You got top marks for dance, so I can’t see this being impossible for you.” He nodded numbly, white as a ghost. “Hunter will take over your position with Simmons, and we’ll have you covered from all sides.”

“I, but - can we...?”

"Dixie and Angel have agreed to give you some training tomorrow, so report here bright and early.”

Fitz flinched, no longer able to craft his protests into words.

“End of discussion, Fitz. You’re going on stage tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunter's song: Sexy and I Know It by L.M.F.A.O.


	2. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anticipation** _[an-tis-uh- **pey** -shuh-n]_:  
> Realizing something in advance. Having expectations of pleasure before any real action has been taken.

### Fitz

Dixie hit the stop button on the player. “And _what_ do you think you’re _doing_?”

Oh God. She was going to call it all off before we’d even begun. She'd seen I was rubbish. I looked down at my bare chest. I was no male model. It was cold. And I still didn’t know where to put my hands. I blanched. “Uh, I, er… that is… should the shirt not come off first?” 

She and Angel looked at each other, amused. “Happens every time,” Angel grinned.  

“I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, sugar,” Dixie raised a thin, penciled eyebrow. “I meant show me what I’m working with, as in your _moves_. You know. _Dancing_.” 

“Ah. Right.” I looked down at my feet, then glanced to where I’d tossed my shirt. How could I get it back without looking more foolish? A cat-call rang out from the back of the room. I stiffened. Hunter.  

“Now go for the belt, you _animal!_ ” He whooped. I refused to look over to the bar where I knew Simmons was trying to catch Hunter up to speed. It was an early morning, and there was no amount of coffee or alcohol that could save me from this nightmare.  

Dixie put a hand on her voluptuous hip and leered at me like I was a cat toy. “But I do have to say,” she raised her other eyebrow to join the first, “not bad. More hair on his chest than I expected from such a baby face. Must be the Scottish blood.” She smirked over to Angel. “Almost a shame…” 

I straightened in terror. “I-I refuse to wax anything!” I said, lifting a finger. She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Uh, Ma’am.” I ducked my head and brought my hands to my hips. Then crossed them over my chest again. Why was it so cold in here? 

“Of _course_ , we wouldn’t _dream_ of waxing you,” she drawled. “You’d turn red as a raspberry. Who wants to see that?” 

“Oh.” I said, somewhat surprised. “Well. Good.” 

“Angel’s got some extra shaving kits in the back,” she jerked her head to the side. “He’ll set you up when we’re done here. Angel’s our best Manscape-Artist, aren't you, babe?” She leaned in to Angel and pinched him on the cheek. I dropped my mouth open, but the words of protest dried up on my tongue. “Moves first though,” Dixie winked and tossed over my t-shirt. “We gotta see what you’ve got before we break you in completely.” 

I pulled my t-shirt back on as quickly as possible, still not looking over at the bar.  

“So when the music starts, just dance," Angel said simply. "Just go for it. Whatever you’ve got. This is a judgement free zone.” 

My eyes flicked to the back of the room of their own accord. Judgement free? I rolled my shoulders. I could do this. For the team. For the mission. Lives were depending on this... 

The music started playing again, and I shut my eyes, extremely aware of Hunter and Simmons watching from the back of the room. Thank God the equipment was still not recording properly. It was a decent beat though. I started swaying to the music and shuffling my feet. I remembered my hands, and quickly curled them into fists and started waving them around to the beat.  

The music stopped. I dropped my arms. There was an extended silence. Someone coughed. In a parallel universe, I developed powers of invisibility.

“Well,” Dixie removed her leopard-print glasses and rubbed them clean on her shirt. “I’ve worked with worse. You can find the beat at least.” 

I gulped. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? At the back of the room, Simmons waved, catching my attention. She smiled and gave me a pretty forced thumbs up.  

Simmons was being far too supportive in all this. In all our years of friendship, I'd never found myself wishing so adamantly that she weren't around. Since the bomb had dropped last night about how I'd be spending today, I had absolutely no desire for her to see me like this. It was embarrassing. And, being _The World's Best Friend_ (TM), Simmons made it her duty to cheer me up.  

"You see, Fitz? Not all male strippers go the Full Monty like Hunter," she had said last night, pointing at her screen. "Look. These ones have a jaunty little red number to cover up their, er... Oh. Maybe not..." She squinted at the screen and quickly clicked away.  

Simmons' version of helping was to get me prepared. It was late, I was tired, and all I wanted was to curl up in my bed so I could groan to myself in misery. All Simmons could seem to do was bring up a steady stream of videos showing naked men flopping themselves about to songs with heavy down-beats. It was not how I'd pictured the evening going.  

And, alright, while I hadn't had a distinct plan _per se_ , Angel's encouragement had brought me _much_ closer to thinking about telling Simmons how I felt. Honestly. An extra night in a motel could have had infinite possibilities on that front, yeah? Maybe. But that was all blown to smithereens the moment it was decided I'd be joining the ranks of ecdysiasts.  

"Oh, well see, you can do _that_ move easy," Simmons said, pointing to the screen again.  

"Simmons," I groaned.  

"No, look. It's very similar to what we had to do for the fox-trot. You just speed it up and put more emphasis on your pelvis-" 

"Simmons! Can you just stop? Please." I grabbed the tablet from her and tossed it to the other side of the bed, burying my head in my hands.  

"I'm only trying to help, Fitz," she muttered.  

"Yeah, well I really don't want your help this time, okay?" 

"Oh." She looked shaken. "Sorry, I just-" 

I rubbed my forehead. Now I'd insulted her. "I didn't mean-" 

"No, it's fine. I get it." She reached over and picked up the tablet, hugging it to her chest. 

"Look-" 

"Fitz, honestly. It's fine." She stood from my bed. "It's late and we've got an early morning. We both need to be well rested for..." She cut herself off as my stomach lurched. She put a hand on my shoulder and looked right at me. "Fitz. You know you don't _have_ to do this, right?"  

I looked back straight into her sympathetic brown eyes. For some reason the adrenaline that usually shot through me at her touch had a profound calming effect on my rampant nerves. I breathed. I gave her what I hoped was a thankful smile in return.  

"Nah, I'll be fine. Anything for the team and all, yeah?" 

Part of me knew that if I spoke to Bobbi, I could actually back out if I really wanted. I could. I could walk away now, Simmons would never have to see me like that, and our friendship would be spared the test of sheer mortification. But I also knew that it meant the Hydra Agent would slip through our fingers. Lives would be put in danger all because I was a little nervous about manning up and showing some skin. I was part of this team. I could do this.  

"Well I'm always here if you need me," Simmons squeezed my shoulder. She smiled, paused like she was about to say something else, then quickly walked out of my motel room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sighed heavily as I watched her go. I didn't get any sleep.   

*******  

"So let's start with your attitude," Dixie said, pulling me back out of my head. "How'd you feel with your shirt off?" 

"Er... cold?" I crossed my arms over my chest.  

"Wrong. The answer is _hot_. Confident," Dixie purred. "When you're up there, you own that stage, Fitz. You're in charge of it."  

"Okay..." I mumbled. 

“Seriously, sugar. Get that through your head and everything else will fall into place. It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you look like. You are someone’s fantasy. Plain and simple. Everyone is to someone. Probably more than one someone. And that’s what we do here. We bring fantasies to life.” 

I swallowed and looked at the back of the room. Simmons was no longer paying attention. "So... so I just take control of the stage, simple as that?" 

"Hey, I don't care how you do it. Fake it for all I care. But if you don't look confident up there, no one's buying." 

“The real secret is to just have fun and try to relax," Angel approached. "Don’t over-think the moves. Put your own personality into it. It’s okay to laugh at yourself if you need to. It can all feel pretty silly sometimes, but that doesn't mean it's not effective." 

"Right," I nodded.

"We're gonna start you off with some basic moves and build up from there," Angel said. “The erotic dancer has three basic moves to his arsenal. The Body Roll, The Pelvic Thrust, and the Butt shake,” he listed off on his fingers. "For example," Angel bent his knees and shimmied his hips back and forth. "Butt shake. It's actually all in the knees. Now you try." I swallowed and bent my knees in precisely the same manner as Angel...  

It was surprising how much of a workout this all was. By mid-morning I'd worked up a healthy sweat during our practice, but I was at least feeling a bit more confident. I doubt I would ever be able to contend with likes of Magic Mike, Angel, or even Hunter, but at least I wasn't about to make a complete fool of myself. I was only learning the group routine. No headline dance for me, thank God. This whole thing wasn't nearly as bad as I'd worked it up to be. I could absolutely do this! 

“With a bit more snap this time. Commit, Fitz! Give it some pop!” I stood next to Angel and thrust my hips to the side with as much oomph as I could muster. It was actually a bit fun! 

“Alright I think we’re ready for the next step,” Dixie clapped and turned away from the stage. I took a long drink of water as Angel grabbed a chair. “Sweetie? We need a quick hand up here.” 

My eyes widened as Dixie snapped in the direction of Hunter and Simmons. They looked at each other, then back at Dixie. “What? Me?” Simmons coughed. Hunter raised his eyebrows in exasperation and adjusted his ice-pack. 

“Come on love, we don’t have all day. No other ladies in the room. Quick as a bunny now, up on stage!” 

Simmons skittered over and climbed the steps to stand next to me. I was a little out of breath and equally as confused. 

“Good girl. Now please have a seat.” Simmons sat at the edge of the chair apprehensively. I looked at Angel, who raised his eyebrows at me.  

"At the end of the number, we all go out into the audience," he explained. "That's also when you do your Shield thing, right? So let's get right on in there." 

"Get in there...?" 

"Lap-dances, Fitz. They're like our bread and butter. Keep up, will you?" 

"Oh!" I looked at Simmons and it all clicked. "Oh." We looked away from each other as fast as we could.  

“Okay, we’re going to pull all the moves together like we said, but feel free to throw your own stuff in there if you want. Remember, this is _her_ fantasy, Fitz. Make this all about her,” Angel shot me a wink and leaped off the stage. I looked over at Simmons sitting nervously on the chair and suddenly forgot everything we'd learned over the past few hours. 

“And 5, 6, 7, 8…” The music started playing and I froze. It was all very different with Simmons sitting there waiting for me to... to... Oh Hell.  “Come forward, Fitz," Dixie barked. "Get nice and close.”  

I lumbered into position, standing facing Simmons with my legs hip-width apart. I started swaying my hips to the beat, doing my best to avoid looking down at her. I could do this. No big deal. Just practice.  

“Great. Now get closer... _Closer,"_ Dixie called out sharply. "Come on Fitz, this is a _lap-dance_. You'll have to touch her eventually." I willed myself forward until I finally stood with my legs on either side of her lap, hands in the air, not touching her. She stared straight ahead at my stomach. 

"Butt shake, Fitz." I looked at the ceiling and shook my tush, not thinking of anything, anything at all. A small sound came from Simmons' vicinity. I risked a quick terrified peek down. She was giggling. At first I didn't know whether to settle on offended or mortified, but when she caught my eye, I couldn’t help but smile a bit too. This really was ridiculous, wasn't it? 

“Good. Get comfortable," Angel encouraged. "Now put her hands on your chest.” Simmons grinned and lifted her hands towards me.  

"No!” Dixie snapped and Simmons froze. “Not you, sugar. Him. He's in control here."  

"Right, sorry," she ducked her head. I grabbed her hands from the air and placed them on my chest. She smiled up at me and bit her lip apologetically. I attempted to convey in a single look just how totally normal this all was and the only reason my pulse was so elevated was because of the workout. Sometimes our silent communication is very useful. 

“And move your hips… Good. Now roll...” I rolled my hips, looking absently over Simmons’ shoulder. It was fine. This wasn’t so bad. “ _Roll_... Fitz, what should your hands be doing?” I took a deep breath and cringed. I pushed Simmons’ hands down my waist then pulled them around to grab my butt. I put my hands on her shoulders. Still fine. Not a big deal. So her hands were on my ass?  

“Don’t forget to roll your- Right.” I shut my eyes and rolled my hips in a circular motion. The added contact made it feel far more intimate than before. We were holding each other as I was basically low-key gyrating in her face. Simmons moved her hands against my behind, clutching me a little more firmly. My eyes shot open and my pelvis twitched forward of its own accord. Luckily it happened to be on the down-beat, so it looked like a planned thrust.   

"Great! Exactly. Perfect," Dixie exclaimed from the chairs. "Okay, now moving behind her..."  

I exhaled and shifted my weight onto my heels so I was almost sitting, but still not touching her. Angel gave me a nod, and just as he’d shown me, I placed my fingers on the side of her face. With my fingertips, I slowly drew a line down her cheek. Down her neck. Spreading my fingers over her collar-bone, I moved my leg so I was no longer straddling my best friend. I stepped behind her and slid my palm across her shoulder blade, sweeping her hair to the side to expose her shoulder. I never realized how soft her skin was. I slid my hand up the back of her neck and gripped her hair. I heard her inhale and hold her breath. I faltered my grip a little so I wouldn't hurt her, but Angel nodded for me to go on. I rubbed my hands slowly over her shoulders and down her arms, then back up again.  

"What are you forgetting, Fitz?" Dixie barked, exasperated. 

Right. I reached down again and put my hands on the back of hers, then laced her fingers through mine. I lifted them out so that her arms were making a T. I drew my hands back along her arms again, over her shoulders, then traced the sides of her body down, as my body moved down with the music.  

“Good,” Dixie called. “And three, two, _hit_.” On the beat, I snaked my hands to her front and clutched my fingers against her ribs. She inhaled sharply. And I froze.  

“Fitz,” Angel sighed. “Remember this is her _fantasy_ you’re creating. Do what feels right."   

I could smell her hair. She was breathing deeply. If I peered just a little further over her shoulder, I’d be able to see down her… 

"Fitz, come on," Dixie snapped. "Pick a direction.” She meant my hands, currently resting hot against Jemma’s midriff. “Up or down." I gulped. Jemma was sitting stiffly at attention, arms out, waiting to see what would happen next.  

"S-Simmons?" I mumbled, seeking out... I wasn't sure. Comfort? Permission? 

“Mm?” She breathed. “Oh. Yeah, i-it’s fine Fitz.” I nodded to myself. Extremely aware of how close to her chest my hands were, and how I would absolutely lose focus if I had to actually touch her _there_ , I started to push my hands down her navel. Realizing where my hands were headed at the last second, I thought better of it and slid them back up quickly, towards the swell of her chest. My nervous hands barely brushed against her shirt. She breathed out.  

"Right. Fine. Back to the front."  

I walked back around to the front of the chair, my back to her, and swayed to the beat. "Fitz!” Dixie barked again, officially losing patience with me. “ _Where_ should her hands be? C’mon, who's in control here?"  

I frowned. I was doing the best I could, and the constant needling was getting distracting. Frustrated with all the directions, I reached behind me. Jemma's wrists were right there. I held on tight and pressed her hands flush against the sides of my waist. She spread her warm palms into my shirt. I pushed them down slowly so her hands were on my hips. Then thighs. I held her hands against me, then brought them slightly forward. She dug her fingers into my skin, gripping the inside of my legs. I spun around to face her again. I was in control. I pushed back. Her hands hung in the air when I dropped to the ground.  

I knelt in front of her, then put my hands on Jemma’ knees. Our eyes locked. In one swift movement, I pushed her legs apart and gripped her thighs. Holding tightly, I pulled my face in towards her, rolling the rest of my body in a fluid motion, not quite touching her, taking my time to come up between her legs. I brought my hands up to her shoulders and snaked them through her hair as I thrust my hips forward on the beat into her lap. She gasped and bit her lip. I rolled my torso up and then in. I was now leaning over her. Our faces inches apart. Up and then in. We were still barely touching. I snapped my pelvis on the beat, continuing to roll my hips and look right into her eyes.  

Then there was no sound. Just us.  

“Well.” The music shut off to a booming echo in the hall. “I think we’re making fast progress,” Dixie said, finally pleased.  

Jemma and I continued to stare at each other for a moment after my hips stopped moving. My hands were still tangled in her hair and we were both breathing deeply.

We blinked, and the spell was broken. I untangled myself as fast as I could manage and stepped back away from her. She cleared her throat, sliding her legs back together and adjusting herself in the chair. Whatever had just happened... 

“One more time from the top," Dixie sang out, practically skipping. "And then we'll work on getting you out of your clothes.” 

Hunter raised a hand from the back. “Actually, Simmons, we’ve got to run for a bit. Something needs our attention back at the-” 

“Right. No, of course," she said. Her voice was low and gravelly. She cleared her throat again and stood. "You don’t mind us abandoning you here for a bit, do you?” 

Realizing she was addressing me, I shook my head and shrugged. “Yeah. Go on.” 

*******  

Now I don’t want to seem ungrateful or anything, but the rest of the afternoon went surprisingly better after Simmons and Hunter left. I was nailing all of the moves. Something had somehow clicked, and my body was paying pretty good attention to what was being asked of it. I was on fire! I was feeling fairly confident tackling even the more intermediate moves like “Ride the Pony.”  

Angel and Dixie were particularly pleased. After one of the runs of the song, I hopped over to have a long drink of water at the edge of the stage near them. Angel gave me a solid high-five.  

“What do you think,” he asked, tipping his head to Dixie. “Electric Leo or Fancy Fitz?” 

Dixie grinned devilishly. "I’m thinking Lucky Leo. Or Leo the Lion," she pursed her bright red lips, gauging my reaction.  

"I'm sorry, what's happening?" I panted, wiping a dribble of water from my chin.  

"We’re giving you a stage name,” Dixie raised an eyebrow as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She then perked up, realizing something. “Oh! Angel,” she whacked him in the chest. “Go see if we have any electrician costumes in the back. Not sure if we'll go with it, but we may as well see." 

I looked between them, still catching my breath. "I thought the group number just had the, ah, the little dickie and cuffs..." I motioned to my neck. 

"You kidding?” Dixie shot me an amused grin. “Honey, I dunno what happened earlier, but you’ve been slaying it all afternoon," she examined her long polished nails. "So, being the savvy business-woman I am, I’m gonna make some money off’a your tight ass. You're getting your own routine.” She sauntered towards the bar and goosed my rear as she passed by.

By now I was fairly used to the bottom-grabbing, but my mouth fell open somewhere between abject fear and downright flattery. My own routine? “A-Are we sure that’s the best idea? I mean…” 

“Just roll with it Fitz,” Angel laughed at my expression. “You’re actually not half bad. And I will say: having a stage name and character actually makes it way easier up there. No matter what's going on with you, you get to be the character instead, owning it and flaunting what he’s got.” 

I nodded slowly, then gave a non-committal shrug and a smile. I guess… I'd come this far... I mean what difference _did_ it make to me at this point? So long as I was helping people.

“Alright, follow Angel to the back room then,” Dixie looked at her watch and downed her drink. “See what outfits you can scrounge up, and then I think it’s about time to tame the man-forest you’ve got under that shirt,” she winked.  

I looked down at my chest and crossed my arms over it. Cheers to rolling with it. Goodbye, chest-hairs. It had been nice growing you.  

*******  

It was early evening before I had any time to myself. It had been a long day of practice, primping and prepping. I had a lot of respect for these guys at this point. I was exhausted. And my hairless chest was itchy. There was way more work that went into all of this than I realized.

I looked around the main hall of the club, then, satisfied it was only me, I snuck over to the bar and slid down to take a look at the equipment we'd left behind. Getting my hands on the machinery felt like home. I knew what I was doing here. I didn’t have to think. I could lose myself. I could at least have a look to see what was going on with the equipment and attempt to fix it in time for tonight. I put one of the transceivers in my ear and began to tinker.  

A small signal jammer was stuck in the back of one of the machines. Odd. That could likely explain all the technical glitches… But how did it get there?

Suddenly, a sharp buzz crackled through my ear. I cursed and dropped my wrench. When I recovered the tool, I realized there were muffled voices coming through the static on the other end... The equipment was starting to work again! 

_“…So are we... talk about it?”_ Was that Hunter?

_“…really rather_ not... _if it's all the same...”_

“Simmons!” I perked up, recognizing her voice. It was Simmons and Hunter back at the motel. I raised my voice to get their attention. “HEY! Can you hear me? I think I got the transceiver working!” I fiddled with it again to see if I could get it clearer.

_“… you two had some_ serious _sex-eyes happening back there.”_

I paused. Hold on, what were they discussing?

_“Hunter, will you_ please _drop it?”_ Simmons sounded irritated. I shut my mouth, intrigued despite myself.

“ _What’s so bad about it? We’re all adults here… You can’t tell me you never thought about it.”_

There was a silence on the other end. I held my breath.  

_“Ha! Knew it!”_ Hunter clapped. _“You wanna have hot sweaty lab sex with Fitz!”_  

_“Hunter, please! Don’t be so vulgar!”_

_“That’s as good as an admission at this point,”_ he said. I was crouched behind the bar, almost completely still, my eyes wide. Why? Why was he doing this to me? Was it a prank? Oh God. Did this mean she knew? Had she guessed and just not said anything? Did they always talk about it without me? This was awful. This was hell. This was-

_“Well… I didn’t say I_ never _thought about it.”_

What? She hadn't never thought about it? What did that even - Did that mean... Simmons _thought_ about it? Simmons thought about… _me_. That way? Simmons thought about me _that_ way… Since _when_? Was this a new thing? An old thing? Was it just because of this mission? That practice earlier? It _was_ pretty intimate... I had so many questions. So many – No, this couldn’t be a real thing. Could it? My ear buzzed again. Hold on, there was more...

_“...at this point, I don’t think it’s a line we’d never cross,"_ Simmons sighed. She sounded... disappointed? _"At least_ he _would never cross it with_ me _…Now can we please change the subject?”_

I ripped the transceiver our of my ear and collapsed against the bar to think. This whole day had just been very confusing so far.  

 

 

### Simmons

The morning was surprisingly bright and sunny, which was perhaps why it felt so odd to be going underground where none of that could reach us. I glanced over at Fitz as we headed down the concrete steps to _Big Dixie’s_. The night before had been quick but tense. I’d tried talking the whole experience up to calm him down somewhat, but he was in one of his moods. He kicked me out in a bit of a huff. Not that I blamed him, considering what he was up against. 

First thing in the morning, I brought him a cup of tea hoping it would make him feel a bit more normal. He refused that too. He just sat on his bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, clutching a pillow. He clearly hadn’t shaved, and his clothes were rumpled. It was a stark contrast to how put together he normally was. I took a deep breath. Perhaps it was this new light I’d been seeing him in since last night, but he looked...  _good_. He also looked as though he hadn’t slept at all though, so I bit back all of my instincts and concerns, and simply smiled, the ever supportive friend. "How you feeling?"  

"Fine." He didn't even look at me.  

"You packed water? Today will likely be rigorous, and you know how overheated you tend to get, so-" 

He stood abruptly and showed me the water-bottle he'd already packed. He re-zipped his duffle bag rather forcefully. "Let's just go. Get this over with," he lifted the bag to his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets.  

"Fitz," I tried putting my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he stepped deliberately towards the door, avoiding my touch.  

"Hurry up Simmons," he forced a weak smile onto his face, looking back at me. "Don't want to be late for my first day of stripper camp." 

I sighed and dropped my hand to my side. Bobbi and Hunter were waiting in the van to take us to the club. We got in without a word. I wanted to say something, let him know he’d be fine, but everything I thought of sounded like complete rubbish, even to me. Bobbi gave me a sympathetic smile. The entire ride was tense and silent. 

By the time Dixie and Angel let us in at the bottom of the steps, Fitz was white as a ghost. I smiled at him, trying to be encouraging. "I'm just at the back if you need anything. Anything at all." He nodded, but looked as though he'd eaten stones for breakfast.  

*** 

"Alright Hunter, the first thing to know about the art of bartending is-" 

Glass crashed against the bar with a grand tinkling wet barrage, cutting me off. I shut my eyes tightly, not quite ready to look. “Hunter,” I said. “ _Please_ tell me you didn’t just try to flip a bottle without any instruction whatsoever.” 

“Fine. I won’t tell you,” Hunter muttered. “Unrelated, but where’s the broom kept back here?” 

I opened one eye and gasped. “Hunter! Not the Glenlivet!” My heart broke, looking at the shards of the once beautiful bottle of fine scotch. “Of all the drinks to start with, how could you possibly think _that_ was the one to grab?!” 

“You know,” Hunter haughtily rested his weight on one hip, adjusting his ice pack coolly, “I’m not flourishing under all this disapproval, Simmons. How am I supposed to learn anything if all I’m getting is negativity?” 

I took a calming breath. “But the _Glenlivet_ , Hunter!” 

He shrugged. “We’ll open a new one. It’s a bar, Simmons, there’s more where that came from.” 

My string of biting protests was prepared on the tip of my tongue, but in the next instant he had grabbed the bottle of Grey Goose, and I had to rush forward to pull it off him before more harm was done. “Why don’t we start with the simpler maneuvers, shall we?” I tucked the bottle safely away at the back of the shelf, then whipped out the cocktail shaker and an ice scoop. “This ought to be more your speed. Martini please,” I said, shoving the tools into his arms. 

“Shaken, not stirred?” Hunter quoted in his most suave voice, eyes lighting up. 

“Indeed, Mr. Bond. Go on then.” 

“Alright!” Hunter fist-bumped and momentarily doubled over to clutch his ice-pack to his groin. I waited. When he recovered, he turned to the liqueur shelf with joyfully greedy eyes. “Just one question.” 

“Oh?” 

“What’s in a martini?” 

This was going to be a long day.  

"Alright Baby-Face," Dixie clapped loudly over by the stage. "Time to show me what you've got." 

Hunter and I both spun around immediately. Hunter dropped the cocktail shaker. Fitz looked so nervous and alone up there. But I knew he was up to the challenge. When the music started, Fitz unzipped his hoodie in time to the song. He closed his eyes tightly when the clasp reached the bottom, and he snaked his arms out of the sleeves. One of his arms got caught on his watch, so he shook it off in a bit of a panic. He gaped down where it fell to the ground, breathing nervously. In one swift movement, he brought his arms up over his head, grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it up and off. He tossed it to the side of the stage. 

It's not that I'd made a habit of seeing my best friend shirtless over the years, but we'd caught a few glimpses of skin here and there. Simply one of the side-effects of being around another person so frequently. Completely innocent of course. But apparently I'd missed a few opportunities in the last little bit. He was not the same skinny teenager I'd gone to the academy with.  

Dixie looked at Angel. The music stopped, and I forced myself to look away and find a rag to clean up the mess back here. Where had those rags gone now? 

"Hunter, can you please pass me a-" 

He let out a loud catcall. "Now go for the belt, you _animal_!"  

I dropped my shoulders and glared at him. “You know Fitz is only doing this to help fix your mess,” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down. “You could at least be supportive.” 

“How was that not supportive?” Hunter lifted his hands innocently. “Would you rather I tell him to keep it all _on_?” 

“Just keep quiet.” I huffed. “Please. If you even know how.” 

“Jeezus, fine _mum_ ,” he leaned forward and tossed me the rag that had been resting on the counter right next to me. 

I tutted and put all of my attention into wiping down the bar. It’s best to keep the work space pristine, I find, especially in times of stress. But when the music started up again, my nerves got the better of me. My eyes tore away back up at the stage. Fitz was attempting to dance now. I couldn’t look away.  

He wasn't  _bad_ , per-se… it was just that he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with his limbs.  _Why_ he was being so stubborn about doing this, I’ll never know. He really didn’t have to, and he honestly looked like he didn’t even want to! 

“Oooh,” Hunter winced when Fitz started waving his hands about. I shot him a death glare. Sadly, he wasn’t wrong… this wasn’t going well. 

“Fitz is just nervous,” I said icily. I crossed my arms over my chest and considered the awkwardly swaying man on the stage. “You know he’s actually quite a good dancer when not thrown into the deep end of improvisation. He just needs a bit of direction is all.” 

“Don’t we all,” Hunter muttered under his breath.  

When the music stopped, Hunter coughed and looked at me with a grimace. I slapped him in the arm.  

With every fiber of my being, I wished I could run up to the stage myself and shoo everyone away so that Fitz could have a moment alone to process everything. I stayed put though. Fitz wouldn’t appreciate my coddling. He just looked like such a lost little puppy up there all on his own! Instead, I waved and gave him a big thumbs-up to show that we supported him. Even if Hunter was being a prat, I had the utmost faith in Fitz!  

Didn’t I? 

*** 

After some time and a few more broken glasses, we started making some head-way with Hunter’s bar-tending skills. But truth be told, it was going about as well as Fitz’s dance lessons. Not that I was watching. The biggest obstacle was that when I _could_ grab Hunter’s attention, he felt very strongly that every cocktail _should_ contain whisky, whether or not it traditionally did. Or his go-to backup: “Why not just throw ‘em a good beer?” 

“Hunter,” I sighed. “Most of these women will be asking for fruity cocktails, so will you please pay attention to what goes into a Cosmopolitan already!” 

Hunter looked immediately over my shoulder and his face fell. “Well now look, he’s got it all wrong!” He pointed to the stage. “That’s really bad for the knees you know.” 

“Hunter.” 

“You can’t do a hip thrust like that, it’s just bad form.”  

“Hunter. Can you please focus?” 

“He’s supposed to be going up then down, not down-up,” he leaned against the bar and shook his head. “He won’t be getting his own dance at this rate.” 

“If it’s such a concern for you, perhaps _you_ should have listened to everyone and kept yourself out of harm’s way. Then Fitz wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation in the first place!” 

“No need to bite my head off!" Hunter stood back, arms raised defensively. "Just offering constructive commentary.” 

“It’d be more constructive if you could put together a proper Manhattan,” I huffed. 

“You seem particularly upset about this, Simmons,” he eyed me suspiciously. “Everything okay?” 

I turned away. “Perfectly fine. Just worried about him,” I caught a glance of the stage from the corner of my eye. I shook my head and resolutely rolled my shoulders, propping a chipper smile onto my face. "Now chop chop, that Cosmo won’t make itself!” If Fitz could do this, so could I! 

“Sweetie?” Dixie broke my newly regained composure, and I whipped around to face the stage. Fitz was standing with one hand on his hip, and the other wiping sweat from his forehead. His t-shirt was clinging to his chest rather snugly… “We need a quick hand up here,” the other woman snapped her fingers. 

I looked at Hunter who looked at me with raised eyebrows. We both looked back at Dixie. “What? _Me_?” I coughed. What on earth could she need me for? I don’t think I was quite the cup of tea for her clientele… 

“Come on love, we don’t have all day. No other ladies in the room,” she snapped again. Goodness, she was formidable when she wanted to be. “Quick as a bunny now, up on stage!” 

I smoothed down my jeans nervously, then did as I was told and scurried over to the stage. I stood cautiously next to Fitz.  

“Good girl. Now please have a seat.” I sat down but stayed at the edge of the chair. I tried to smile at Fitz with encouragement, but he was discussing something with Angel. Up close like this I realized he was rather out of breath and smelled... manly. Apparently his pheromones were indicating that we would be a suitable biological match, otherwise I would have found the smell of his sweat repulsive. How had I not been overwhelmed by his scent before now? 

"Lap-dances, Fitz. They're like our bread and butter. Keep up, will you?"  

What was that now?  

"Oh…" Fitz looked down at me with wide eyes. Oh lord, what had I just agreed to? We looked away from each other as fast as we could. Well, when in Rome I suppose… I sat back in the chair and attempted to keep my heartbeat steady. Where did the hands of the lap-dancee go? I clutched the edge of the chair, but that made me look too nervous, so I put them in my lap. No, I couldn’t cover my lap, that part of me would be occupied shortly! Oh goodness. How was _I_ the nervous one? This was only a practice. It would likely just be a lot of false starts and slip-ups if the rest of the rehearsal was anything to go by. Not that I’d been paying attention to it.  

“And 5, 6, 7, 8…” The music started. Fitz didn't move. “Come forward, Fitz," Dixie barked. "Get nice and close.” He looked mortified, but brought himself to follow her direction. He was always very good with direction.  

"Get closer. You'll have to touch her eventually!" Fitz straddled my lap. I stared straight ahead at his stomach. He was just wearing a plain white t-shirt. Clothes I’d seen him in countless times. He wore this to bed most nights, actually. It was the closest thing to work-out gear he owned. But that must not be entirely true… I’d seen what was under his shirt at this point, and that didn’t just happen on its own. I wonder when he found the time to work out without my noticing? …Oh, this was the problem with having such an active mind! It never stopped! 

 Suddenly, Fitz was shimmying his hips in front of me. My eyes widened. I attempted to avoid seeing any of his… well, _bits_ flopping about, to save him from embarrassment, for his own sake… but there was nowhere else to look, and honestly, he was _right_ there, and what was I doing trying to preserve his sense of decorum right now? We were about to go well beyond that and - I couldn't hold it in. It was all too much, too absurd. I started to giggle.  

Fitz looked down at me, scandalized, but that just made it worse. Thankfully, the corners of his mouth finally twitched up too, and we both chuckled at the ridiculousness of our current situation as he shook his pelvis in my face. We had been through a lot together, and this was just one more silly adventure to add to the history books. What else were friends for? 

"Put her hands on your chest," Angel instructed Fitz. I sighed jovially and started to lift my hands for him, working together as we always did. But Dixie stopped me rather abruptly. I shot him an apologetic look. He looked back pointedly, trying to tell me how distinctly uncomfortable and exhausted he was. I could sympathize. My hands relaxed against his chest, trying to send him comfort through my touch. I realized I could feel the contours of him quite firmly beneath the thin cotton. The heat pulsing off of him was suddenly particularly distracting. 

It took me a moment to realize his hips were moving again. He grabbed my hands rather forcefully and pushed them slowly down the sides of his waist. It was like my hands were on fire with every inch of him they touched. How had I never noticed this electricity before? How many times had I inadvertently touched Fitz?  

Then my hands were on his bum. My hands. They were on his – And I realized in that moment that I’d never had the opportunity to truly appreciate how well formed his bum was. It was just so round. So firm. Yet still tender enough to dig your fingers into just so... Fitz thrust his pelvis on the beat, and my face went rather numb. Which was a shame, really, because he then began drawing his fingertips down my cheek.  

The intended effect was achieved, however. This whole thing was becoming rather intimate, and I was frustrated that my body had chosen that moment to rebel. I wanted to feel the heat of his fingertips on my face. I managed not to close my eyes as his hand travelled down my neck. I craved the feeling of that electricity, but all I could manage to focus on was breathing in and out like a regular human being. When he gripped my hair, I inhaled and held my breath so that I wouldn’t gasp. Who knew his hands could be so strong in such an alternative setting?  

The addictive heat of his touch finally began to spread through my arms again as he traced his hands back up my shoulders…  

"What are you forgetting, Fitz?"  

I bit back disappointment as his hands removed themselves from my skin and he positioned me with my arms out.   

I could have groaned when he slid his hands down my sides, but his touch wasn’t nearly as firm as I wanted.  

"Good. And three, two, _hit._ "  

He clutched his strong hands against my ribs. There. That’s what I was after. I inhaled sharply, wanting more, but his hands stayed still.   

"Fitz, remember this is a fantasy you're creating. Do what feels right."  

He was hesitating.  

"Fitz, pick a direction. Up or down."  

I sat stiffly, arms out, not sure what was supposed to happen next, but acutely aware of my whole body _wanting_ it.   

"S-Simmons?" His breath danced across my earlobe, and it took me a moment to gather my thoughts in order to respond.   

"Mm?" I gulped. "Oh. Yeah, I-it's fine Fitz." _Please_. I willed him to read my mind. _Please, more. Touch more! Go as far as you need to._ When his fingers began to slide down towards my navel, I held my breath, realizing where he’d decided to go… A ferocious heat pulsed between my legs. It took all of my self-control not to push his hands down myself and guide them to where I now _needed_ to be touched. At the last second, he pulled his hands up and brushed them against my breasts, barely touching them. I exhaled, heart hammering. I had never known such frustration.  

Then he was out from behind me, but much too far away. My hands followed him of their own accord, trying to draw him back… Then he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Something in my chest purred when he placed my hands on him. He held on tight, guiding my hands firmly down his hips, over his thighs, finally resting on the inside of his legs. My fingers curled into his flesh, wanting to pull him in, wanting him to experience half the pleasure my whole body was screaming for.  

He spun around to face me, and my hands hung abandoned in the air. He dropped to the ground. His fingers brushed my knees like fire. Trapping my blazing eyes with his, he pushed my legs apart and clutched his hot hands into my thighs. I was too overcome to even groan. _More_ , my body screamed. _More, harder,_ _just_ _there…_   

My eyes followed him hungrily as he pulled himself forward. My mouth fell open and my breaths were far too shallow, growing more heated as he refused to touch me the way I wanted him to. He took his time to roll his body up between my legs. It was maddening.  

Finally, he tangled his hands in my hair and he thrust his hips into my lap. I gasped. I bit my lip.   

He rolled again, leaning over me, his face so close, eyes boring into mine. He rolled again. Still not quite touching me, setting every nerve ending aflame with desire.  

And then the only sound was our stuttering breaths and my heartbeat.  

“Well. I think we’re making fast progress,” Dixie said after a moment, sounding pleased. “One more time from the top, and then we’ll work on getting you out of your clothes.” 

I breathed. Had we been clothed this whole time? His eyes searched mine, equally aware of the hunger that lingered behind them as I was. When we blinked, he grinned self-consciously and pulled himself off of me. Back to being the same old Fitz. But he wasn’t. Or at least, if he was, then something in _me_ had changed. I brought my legs back together and squeezed them tight. I adjusted myself in my chair, trying to settle the need that was still burning between my legs where Fitz had been thrusting against me, _not_ touching me.  

Hunter raised his hand. “Actually, Simmons, we’ve got to run for a bit. Something needs our attention back at the-” 

“Right,” I put a cooling hand to my forehead. “No, of course." I stood and straightened myself, my legs a bit like jelly. Fitz stepped back carefully away from me. I shook my head, putting myself back together again. "You don’t mind us abandoning you here for a bit, do you?” 

He shrugged. “Yeah. Go on.” 

*** 

The monitor hummed back at me, still an unhelpful wave of blue static. I hit the side of it in a rare moment of frustration. Fitz would know how to fix this if he were here. Hunter looked over at me and took a long swig of his beer. 

“…So are we going to talk about it?”  

“Talk about what?” I bristled. 

Hunter tossed some popcorn in his mouth and chewed loudly. “C’mon Simmons, you know… back there…” 

“I’m afraid I can’t read your mind, Hunter. You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Y’know… You… Fitz…” He thrust his hips forward and grunted to make his point. I made a noise of disgust and rolled my eyes. He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” I glared straight ahead at the equipment. “In fact I’d really rather _not_ talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Oh it’s not,” Hunter grinned and leaned forward on his knees. “The same to me, that is. You two got _super_ heated back there. I thought I was the master of the sex-eyes, but you two had some _serious_ sex-eyes happening back there.” 

“What are you, twelve?” I huffed. “It was just a practice. There were no ‘sex-eyes’. I told you all he needed was a bit of instruction and he would excel, as per usual.” 

Hunter snorted, leaned back in his chair and shot me a supremely smug look. “All I’m saying is, by the time you two got your paws off each other, there wasn’t a dry seat in the house.” 

“Hunter!” Did he always have to be so vulgar? I ruffled. “We did _not_ have our paws all over each other. He _barely_ touched me.” 

Hunter raised his eyebrows and crunched down on some more popcorn. Perhaps I had said that a little too loudly. I turned back to the monitors. 

Bobbi had asked us to go back to the Motel to sift through the footage from the night before. She needed to run errands, check out more of the chatter in the area, and set herself up as a buyer for the thumb-drive tonight. Hunter and I had set up the monitors and settled in to play them back. Everything would go much more smoothly tonight if he could recognize the woman he identified as the Hydra Agent from the footage. It was a long and dreary process. Exactly what I needed after that little practice session. No need to think about that. Definitely no need to talk about it.  

I checked my watch anxiously to see what time it was. The hours were ticking by particularly slowly.  

“You’re sure you haven’t seen her yet?” I asked, checking my watch again.  

“Patience, Simmons,” Hunter grinned. “Y’know, it’s hard to tell properly when everything’s all blue and wiggly.” 

“Well don’t look at me. Fitz and I tested all of the equipment before-hand, and it was all in perfect working condition.” 

“You sure you had your head completely in the game? Nothing- no _one_ distracting you?” 

I clicked my tongue and huffed, “Hunter, will you _please_ drop it?” 

“Relax, just a joke. Jeezus you’re testy,” he tossed a kernel of popcorn at me, and I glared at him, ready to kill. “You sure this has nothing to do with what you and Bobbi were discussing last night?” 

I dropped my mouth open. “She told you?!” 

Hunter rubbed the back of his head. “Ah, she may have mentioned it.” My face must have looked horror-struck. “Oh come on Simmons, it’s not like it’s the first time this has come up. The whole base talks about it all the time!” 

“The whole base? Talks about…?” 

“Mack and I have a long bet going on you two. Quite frankly I think you’re the last one to the party.” 

I began hyperventilating. “Oh no. Oh dear. This is very bad.” 

“What’s so bad about it? We’re all adults here.”  

I held my head in my hands. “Does Fitz know?” 

Hunter grunted. “That’s the question isn’t it. But seriously. How long have you known each other? You can’t tell me you never thought about it.” 

I held my breath and chewed on my lip, trying not to remember the frustration that coursed through my veins earlier.  

“Ha! Knew it!” Hunter clapped. “You wanna have hot sweaty lab sex with Fitz!” 

“Hunter, please! Don’t be so vulgar!” 

“That’s as good as an admission at this point,” he handed me a fresh bottle of beer. 

I stared at the bottle for a moment and absently started fidgeting with the label, peeling back the corner. “Well… I didn’t say I _never_ thought about it.” 

“Mmhmm…” 

“But,” I peeled the label back a bit more. “At this point, I don’t think it’s a line we’d never cross. At least _he_ would never cross it with me…” I sighed. “Now can we _please_ change the subject?” 

Hunter sighed dreamily. “Your babies are going to be so precious. And brilliant. Oh God,” he stopped suddenly. “You realize they could take over the world if you don't raise them right…” 

“Hunter…” 

“You don’t like the name Kylo, do you? I suggest happy, fuzzy names like Sunshine and Moonbeam.” 

“Hunter, can we please just-” 

“Alright fine,” he huffed, sitting up straight. “I just have one last question for you, then I'll drop it, I swear.” 

I glared at him.  

“This all won’t be a problem later, will it? When he has to… you know… _do his thing_ with another woman?” 

I huffed. “Hunter. There’s nothing to have a problem about,” I explained as rationally as I could. “We’re all professionals here. It’s just a cover.” 

“Okay, just checking. Because speaking of the lucky bachelorette…” he pointed to the screen of last night’s footage. “That’s the one he’s going to have to _tag_ later, if you know what I mean.” 

I hit the pause button and looked closely at the screen. “Her? You’re sure?” The static had cleared up enough to make out the image of a tall black-haired woman. She was certainly pretty in the traditional sense, but she was nothing like Fitz’s type. “Right. Well,” I stood eagerly, ready for some action finally. “I should change back into my club-appropriate attire before we head back,” I straightened the hem of my shirt. “Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.” 

Hunter chuckled and drank down the rest of his beer. “Sure wouldn’t…” 

Where had I packed that push-up bra?

***

By the time we got back to the club I didn't even have time to yell at Hunter. We were running so late that Fitz was already in the back preparing for the opening group number. We basically had to hit the ground running, so I couldn't run and wish him luck. Women swarmed up to the bar much more ferociously than the night before. Between that and fielding Hunter's drink-making abilities, there was hardly time to even think, let alone worry. 

"I'm in position by the south wall," Bobbi whispered into the comms. Good job Fitz, he must have found time to fix all the malfunctioning equipment on a break earlier. That's my man! Well not _my_ man, but... oh sod it. I ducked down briefly and toggled the switches below the bar. 

"We're online here, so everything's clear."

I was suddenly splashed with a sickly sweet substance from above, and a shrill squeal rang through my ears. I stuck my finger in my ear and wiggled it around, adjusting the transceiver as I looked up over the counter again. 

A short red-head was furiously squealing insults at Hunter, having apparently thrown her drink back in his face. Or tried to. I'd received the most of it. I was having trouble understanding exactly what she was trying to say, but the gist of it seemed to be: "NOT AN AMARETTO SOUR, YOU MORON!"

Hunter's eyes were wide and alarmed. He didn't appear to know to handle the wild-woman. I sighed and tossed a rag to him before quickly whipping the proper cocktail together. I placed the new glass down on the table for the girl with a quick apology. She sniffed at me without a word, and shot a dirty scowl at Hunter. She didn't leave a tip. I realized as she walked away that it was the same bride-to-be from the night before, only without her tiara now. Wonder what had happened... trouble in paradise? The fiancée realized she was off flirting with other men before their wedding? I sniffed. More likely just out for another night of a week-long celebration with the girls, spending money and making bad decisions. I knew the type. 

Hunter nudged my arm, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. I pursed my lips together and smiled thinly at him, expecting an apology for not being up to standard yet. Instead he pointed into the crowd and at the back of a tall woman's shining black hair. She was seated comfortably in one of the chairs, fondling a couple of bills between her fingers. The Hydra Agent. 

I looked at Hunter. "You're sure?"

"Sure looks like her," he shrugged. I nodded numbly.

Even the back of her head was beautiful. I tried to settle my oddly nervous breathing. I guess that was the woman Fitz would be... would have to, er, get close to. Oh, calm down!

"Hey," Hunter nodded up to the stage, grinning slyly. "You should do the honors. Let him know who to, y'know, _aim_ for."

"Yes well..." I knew what he was doing but I refused to be gotten a rise out of. I lifted my chin in the air and touched my hand to the transceiver in my ear like a professional. "Fitz," I announced coolly. "We have a visual confirmation of the target." I turned away from Hunter, who was watching me far too closely. "I repeat, the target is on site, third row from the back, shiny black hair and a red dress."

I nodded haughtily at Hunter. See? There was no problem at _all_. I could do my job properly, just as Fitz could do his. Actually... "Fitz, do you copy?" There was still no response on the other end. "Fitz?" I said again. "The target is in position. Please acknowledge." I waited another moment, but still nothing. What if Hunter had got it wrong? What if it was actually someone at the back with Fitz? What if something had happened? I rung my hands together anxiously. I couldn't stand not knowing. Without another thought, I headed straight for the little bar door, ready to abandon Hunter. 

It was just at that moment that the lights dimmed. Just at that moment that the music filled the room, reverberating through my chest. A spotlight swam around the club, searching coyly for its victims, then settled back on the stage where the group of beautiful men had appeared as if by magic, in position, to the growing roar of women's screams. And there among them was Fitz. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz's practice song, you ask? Well I actually couldn't settle on one. There were quite a few that would work for that whole situation... Here are some inspired choices:  
> \- Got Me Like, LoveRance  
> \- Begging for Thread, Banks  
> \- Drop It Like It's Hot, Snoop Dog  
> \- Womanizer, Britney Spears  
> \- Wash U Clean, Beth Thornley  
> \- Partition, Beyoncé  
> \- Confident, Demi Lovato  
> What would you choose? Let me know in the comments!


	3. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Temptation** _[temp- **tey** -shuh-n]_  
> An intense desire to do something, especially something that is particularly attractive or alluring, but that might not be the proper course of action.

### Simmons

I held my breath as a beat pulsed through the air, then went quiet. There were five of them standing with their heads bowed, stock still in the dim light. Artificial fog flowed between their feet and over the stage. Fitz was towards the back, standing just as powerfully as the others that I almost didn’t recognize him. They were all dressed in crisp white shirts with bow-ties and suspenders.  

 ** _Hot in..._**  

They simultaneously pumped their chests out then settled back as the music faded out again. Fitz among them, I reminded myself. I wrung my hands together. He was blending in rather well… So far. Why was I so worried? Fitz would be fine… Well, I mean, if the dance rehearsals earlier were anything to go by, then he'd absolutely need me there as a point of contact. I stood my ground just in case. 

 ** _So Hot in Here..._**  

They all stooped low and took a step to the right. As the beat developed, their shoulders rolled back and they stood. His head was still bowed, so I was having trouble letting him know I was there.  

 ** _So Hot in..._**  

They pumped their chests again, and as the music went quiet, I saw his eyes shut tight beneath his brows. Was that fear? I worried my hands together again. There was no turning back for him now. His eyes flicked up momentarily and I tried to give him an encouraging nod so he knew I was here for him. I had no idea if he could even see me. Then the beat dropped and so did Fitz. 

 ** _Oh!_**  

He jumped back up on cue with the rest of the men. His eyes immediately found mine. I smiled. The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. 

 ** _Want a little bit of ugh, ugh_**    
**_And a little bit of ugh, ugh_**  

The song gave short beats that the men used to take turns making flirtatious poses. When it was Fitz’ turn, he thrust his hips to the side then froze in position as the others took their cues. My eyes held his as he stood, a smile dancing on his lips, waiting for the music to pick up. And when it did, it was like his fear melted instantly away. He threw his hands in the air and stepped to the pulse of the song. He wore the music like a second skin, feeling the beat and pushing his movements like he’d always done this.  

 ** _I was like, good gracious ass bodacious_**    
**_Flirtatious,_** ** _tryin_** ** _' to show patience_**  

He was... good. I mean I wasn't surprised, obviously, but… Well okay, I was. He was hitting each move at the right moment, as expected, but he had… such _swagger_! He caught my eye again as he swayed, and this time shot me a huge smile. I grinned back and gave him a look that said: _Wow! Where is this coming from?_ He winked, raising his eyebrows as he danced. He was enjoying this! 

 **_Wingin_ ** **_' for the right time to shoot my steam (you know)_**  
He thrust his hips forward on cue, making a gesture with his hands at “you know,” shrugging rather cockily as if to answer my silent question. A laugh bubbled up from the pit of my stomach, and I beamed up at him. He was being such a ham. How had I ever been worried? This was far too good for his confidence, and I would never hear the end of it now!    
 

 ** _No_** ** _deceivin_** ** _',_** ** _nothin_** ** _' up my sleeve, and no_** ** _teasin_** ** _'_**  
They all stepped back to the rhythm and pushed their sleeves up, preparing for something. I watched intently, Fitz’ twinkling eyes still on mine.  

 ** _I need you to get up_** ** _up_** ** _on the dance floor_**    
**_Give that man what he_** ** _askin_** ** _' for_**  

They lifted their arms, jumping on the spot, beckoning to the audience. Fitz motioned to me. I blushed and waved him off with a soft chuckle. Angel was at the front of the formation, rallying the rest of the women into a frenzy.  

 ** _Cuz_** ** _I feel like_** ** _bustin_** ** _' loose and I feel like_** ** _touchin_** ** _' you (Uh huh)_**    
**_And can’t nobody stop the juice, so baby tell me what’s the use_**  

They brought their hands up to their top buttons and each undid one. The women screamed. I didn’t join in, but I bit my grin back as Fitz’ fingers went for his second button. He shot me a cheeky smile, wrinkling his nose when he lifted his hands away at the last second like the rest of the men. I dropped my mouth open with a smile, realizing I’d been hooked into anticipation. He laughed at my expression. He was teasing me! He was having far too much fun with this now. And frankly… so was I.   
   
**_I said_**    
**_Its_** ** _gettin_** ** _' hot in here (so hot)_**  
Fitz’ eyes flashed and his mouth curved into a grin before he and the rest of the men spun around to face the back.  
**_So take off all your clothes_**  
They burst their shirts open rather suddenly, and were met with a wall of screams and cheers from the audience.   
**_I am_** ** _gettin_** ** _' so hot, I_** ** _wanna_** ** _take my clothes off_**  
They grabbed the edges of their shirts and started pulling them off over their shoulders slowly, taunting the audience. Fitz looked at me over his shoulder and gave me an exaggerated look as if to say: _Should I?_ I laughed and rolled my eyes at him. As expected, on the beat, they pulled their shirts right back on. I shook my head, lost in the fun, campy nature of it all. 

 ** _I said  
_** **_Its_** ** _gettin_** ** _' hot in here (so hot)_**  
They spun back around and ran their hands down their smooth chests. The screams from the women were deafening.  
**_So take off all your clothes_**  
I caught my eyes wandering down, following Fitz’s hands almost greedily, as they clutched at his belt. I held my breath.  
**_I am_** ** _gettin_** ** _' so hot, I_** ** _wanna_** ** _take my clothes off_ **  
I looked back up at his face quickly, and Fitz was still watching me with an indescribable expression etched into his eyes. He pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, now completely bare-chested. I held his eyes. The ghost of our smiles hung in the air, but neither of us were laughing now.   

I remembered to breathe and ended up gulping down air. He shifted his shirt into one hand, then swung it around his head like a helicopter before tossing it out into the audience. All of a sudden, it hit me that Fitz was completely shirtless. And he was now clutching at the buttons of his trousers.  

I stared. Our eyes remained locked from across the club. My heartbeat flooded out the music as I tried to steady my breathing. Almost too soon, he reached down and pulled at his belt, and then there he was. In all his glory. Save for the bow-tie still around his neck and the tight thong he sported, Fitz was completely naked. And I was staring.  

I quickly glanced away to afford him some privacy, my usual reaction to accidentally walking in on Fitz in a similar state of undress. Only, I realized, this time I didn’t need to look away. This time I wasn’t _supposed_ to look away. My eyes flicked back up and locked on Fitz. I inhaled and drank in as much of him as I could. I indulged.  

His shoulders were broader than I’d been expecting, his arms somewhat more toned. I was always mildly surprised at how short men’s torsos were without their clothes on, an optical illusion that long shirts and low waste-lines had perpetuated for some “ideal” male body type. Fitz wasn’t overly muscled into looking like some Tarzan. He wasn’t a gangly mass of skin and bones anymore. Fitz was… well, Fitz. He was exactly as he should be. He had the body of a man, and I suppose it was exactly what I should have been expecting.  

The truly striking thing was how he was carrying himself. His chest was out. His shoulders were back. Every movement he made was deliberate. Strong. He wasn’t second-guessing himself. He looked right at me as my eyes lingered over every inch of him. He watched me do it. He smiled.  

It was the span of perhaps three pounding heart beats. No time at all, and yet all the time in the world. Then the screams in the room met my ears. The dozens upon dozens of women that were also feasting their eyes on the men on the stage, on Fitz, whooped their approval and waved their bills in the air, drawing the men closer to them, reaching their hands out to touch their smoldering skin. And the men went to them. All the men. My chest constricted like a punch to the gut.  

Of course. This was what was supposed to happen. This was the type of place we were in. But it was _Fitz_ up there. _My_ Fitz! The familiar urge to yell all but paralyzed me. Every fiber in my body wanted to force the room full of women to back off, to leave him, to go for _anyone_ else. I remained still. Fitz had his mission. I had no say over who saw what. He was my friend. My partner. That was all. I held the air tightly in my lungs, pushing aside each intense instinct in order to focus on what I knew needed to get done instead.  

I ripped my eyes away from Fitz and the stage, and turned to help Hunter with the drinks. It was as though someone had turned the sound back on.  

There weren't many women at the bar, but enough. I have no idea how I focused enough to actually get their orders and make their drinks, but I managed it. My neck felt cold, my hands were shaking, and my eyes kept wanting to look back up, being drawn towards the stage like magnets. But I refused to look. I stayed focused on the task at hand.  

Hunter let out a long whistle. My head jerked up to him, and he glanced quickly back with a worried look on his face. "Ah, maybe you shouldn't look, Simmons," he said, trying to block my view.  

"Don't be ridiculous,” I stood and huffed. But it was too late. My eyes had found their target.  

All of the men had climbed off the stage at this point and were making their way towards different ladies in the audience. A few had already climbed on top of some women, gyrating and thrusting against them.  

The black-haired target sat at the back of the room. Alone. Sipping her drink coolly. A shrill "Wooooo" rose above the crowd on the other side of the room, pointing all my attention towards it like a homing beacon. There he was. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.  

The short redhead was trilling and howling as Fitz straddled her lap, thrusting his hips against her body, holding her hands against him. It was disgusting, the display they were putting on. Her friends goaded them on. I caught sight of his face, and was horrified at how pleased with himself he looked. I knew it. I _knew_ it! 

My eyes darted back over to Bobbi, who had one hand tucked into her hair. To the untrained eye she was scratching a passing itch. I knew better. She was frantically whispering into her comms to get Fitz off of the wrong woman and focused on the real target! It wasn't working. He wasn't reacting.  

The fire in my chest felt like it was going to explode. I looked at Hunter frantically. He bit back a chuckle and tried to look sympathetic. He backed away when my eyes flashed at him. There was nothing else for it. " _Fitz!_ " I hissed perhaps too loudly into the comms. "Fitz, you buffoon, get off her this _instant_. Abort. Wrong target. Do you copy? Fitz!" 

No matter how many times I tried, he didn't respond. Either there was something wrong with his equipment specifically, he'd turned it off, or he was deliberately ignoring us.  

" _Fitz!_ " I all but shouted with frustration as the redhead squealed. 

"Simmons," Hunter nudged my arm. "Maybe tone it down a little. We're supposed to be undercover..." 

I whipped my head around and gaped at him, a snarl at the back of my throat. But he was right. I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths. It wasn't working. I could still hear them. She was giggling, reacting as he pushed and rolled against her. I felt sick.  

"I-" I didn't know what to do. "Hunter, excuse me." 

I rushed out of the bar, pushing through the crowds and found myself in the bathroom. I leaned over the sink, catching my breath as though I'd run a marathon. I splashed water over my face, staring at myself in the mirror as the droplets ran down my flushed cheeks. It didn't help.  

" _Fitz, on target_ ," I heard Bobbi through the comms. I roared to myself in the mirror and ripped the small piece of metal out of my ear, throwing it across the room.  

What was wrong with me? I snaked my hands through my hair and began pacing. Years! We had known each other for _years_! How many times had I had to listen to him prattle on about other women at the Academy and Sci-Ops? I'd even seen him kiss one or two of them, and hadn't batted an eye! Why, of all times, was I suddenly falling to pieces over a simple mission? It wasn't even real! 

A niggling sensation crept up the back of my neck. Maybe it was real. She'd flirted with him before. There was that glitter. She was back again tonight. Perhaps he was simply using the opportunity to get closer to her before moving on to the real target... No, Fitz was more professional than that. There had to be another explanation. There _had_ to be.  

The bathroom door creaked open. I straightened and tucked my hair behind my ears.  

"Hey, you okay?" It was Bobbi. "Hunter said you ran in here pretty fast..." 

"Tip top," I forced a smile on my face. Bobbi looked at me with extreme skepticism. "Just needed a quick toilet break. My, Fitz has got much better, hasn't he? Not that you saw earlier, but he certainly mastered the choreography in record time.” I knew I was babbling and I couldn’t stop it. “I was rather concerned for him at the start. Shame his comms aren't working, but I’m sure it’s just a small glitch." 

Bobbi winced. "Well..." 

I blinked, tilting my head to the side, politely suppressing my inner voice from shouting _WHAT? EXPLAIN! OUT WITH IT!_   

"His comms were working right before he went on stage,” she said. “We tested them on a private line..." 

"Oh?" I blinked again, trying to sound mildly intrigued at the mishap. "How very unlike Fitz!" Perhaps I blinked a little too much. Bobbi looked physically pained at my attempt at normalcy. Why did it have to be Bobbi on this mission? Her aptitude at reading me and the resultant sympathy she was expressing were less than welcome right now. 

"Look Simmons," she started, reaching a sympathetic hand out. I kept myself from flinching. "He said he's got another dance. He's probably just warming up." 

"Right." I breathed, staring at her hand. I wish that explanation made me feel better about it. "Well, best get back to the floor then," I chirped, brushing past her. "Better figure out what all this hullaballoo is about and get it sorted." I marched off, not waiting for her to follow.  

To my everlasting relief, the song had ended by the time I returned to the main hall. Dixie was up on stage announcing the next number, and Fitz was likely in the back. I hoped he took his time so that I could properly gather myself before seeing him again.  

At the bar, Hunter looked frantic, rushing around looking blankly at the bottles. Any other time I likely would have felt a bit sorry for him, but right now I was pleased that he was having a rough time. I stepped behind the doors and waited for him to explain the situation. 

"We have a big order of Amaretto Sours!" Hunter said anxiously. 

"Ah,” I closed my eyes and shook my head, preparing to step back into my bar-tending role. “Well calm down, those are not your strong suit," I reached for some glasses. "How many?"    

"Four? No, Five." 

I nodded and silently rolled my eyes at Hunter's definition of a big order. I pulled out more glasses, grabbing the scoop of ice myself and turning back around to pick up the bottle of Amaretto. I was still quick and efficient, but every time I reached for something new, a pang rattled through my chest knowing that it would have already been seamlessly taken care of had Fitz still been there with me. Hunter watched me work nervously. If he weren’t so painfully unhelpful, I would have felt rather smug over how difficult he found this job in the end. 

As soon as I was finished, I looked up to see who the drinks were for, but Hunter quickly pushed them all onto a tray and attempted to limp off with it. He didn't even make it out from behind the bar before he started to double over, clutching his groin in pain.  

"Hunter, what are you doing?” I groaned. “You can't walk with that," I rescued the tray from his grasp before his knees hit the floor.  

"No Simmons, it's fine. I've got it." He lurched forward, reaching in vain for the tray of drinks and wincing in pain.  

"Stop." I held the tray above my head out of his reach. "Where is it going?" 

He grimaced, clutched his ice-pack tighter to his crotch, and reluctantly pointed. The redhead. Of course. My eyes narrowed. 

Hunter attempted to stand again. "Just give me a sec and I'll handle... You shouldn’t…" I didn't bother to listen to his pointless protests. He was hurt. I threw back my shoulders and steadied the tray.  

"Not a problem." I set my eyes on her and marched across the club. I’d just drop off the drinks and head back over. I was a mature, confident woman with an important job, and she was simply a guest at the establishment where I was undercover. Nothing more.  

I arrived at the table.  

"About damn time," a perky bleach-blonde whined. I breezed past the immediate twitch of irritation her tone affected in me. 

"Sorry about the wait, bit of confusion at the..." No one was listening to me. They were all tittering animatedly about something or other. So I shrugged, happy to be ignored, and began setting the first of the drinks around the table. Goodness these girls wore strong perfume.  

The redhead squealed, pulling the attention back to her. "....Ew! But he was so _sweaty_!" She shook her hands, beaming as the other girls leaned in to hear more. "And he didn't even take off his thong! We should totally demand a refund. Other guys gave the whole show, and I end up with the prude? No thank you! Am I right girls?" Squeals of indignation swirled around the table. I pursed my lips tightly together, focusing on the glass in my hand. 

"Maybe it's a good thing," one of the girls gawked. "Like, what if you didn't _want_ to see what was under his thong?" 

The girls all turned to her with cocked heads, then one of them perked up, finally catching her meaning. "You know that's true. Half these guys are growers not showers, so I heard they're told to keep it in." 

"That doesn't sound like a thing," another girl rolled her eyes over the wave of shocked giggles. "If it's not worth the price of admission, they wouldn't be strippers in the first place." 

"Girls please, I can settle this," the redhead regained control of her posse with a haughty grin. My hands were shaking, doing my very best to steadily place the next drink on the table. "You saw how close he got. And he _certainly_ \- ARGH!!!" 

I will go to my grave saying that I tripped. And who's to say? I was hardly aware of where my limbs were at that point. I easily could have tripped over one of their tiny bags or ridiculous heels. But the screams were worth it. As was the sticky look of her deflated hair dripping with the last of the cocktails. I couldn't have aimed better if I'd tried! Which, of course, I hadn't.  

"YOU. HAVE GOT. TO BE FUCKING. KIDDING ME!" The redhead screeched to her full height. Even with her heels she just about met my size. The seething rage in her eyes caught me off guard and told me exactly how much trouble I was in.  

"So sorry, must have tripped.” I said as politely as I could. “Let me fetch a napkin!"  

"Fuck you, _Bitch_!" She smeared tendrils of hair out of her face, makeup streaking along with it. "You did that on purpose." 

"There's no need for that tone," I breathed, keeping my temper at bay. "Let me just run and grab-" 

"Just gonna run and grab what? Some brains?" She shoved me, and the tray completely fell from my hands to the floor. " _Dipshit_." 

"Please let's just remain civil," I glared, regaining my footing and lifting my hands to keep her a safe distance. "I've apologized, but it was a simple accident." 

"An accident they let you in here," she pushed my arms away and shoved me again. I tripped backwards but managed to remain standing. “You and your little stripper boy-toy.” My eyes narrowed and I stood my ground, raising my chin defensively. “You saw how much fun he had with me, didn’t you?” She got right in my face and sneered. “Too bad. Wasn’t worth the dollar I wasted on him.” 

Finally, something in me broke. My eyes flared with fire and my ears rang, drowning out my surroundings. I slapped her hard across the face.  

A shocking amount of pain seared through my hand. Just as I was recovering from the fact that I had actually just slapped a complete stranger in the face, she pounced on me.  

The crazed girl let out a wild roar and whipped out her claws. She went for my hair first, pulling and biting. She was surprisingly fast! I did my best to hold her back, but she gouged her nails at my exposed skin as fast as I could push her hands away.  

We grappled against each other, nails and hair flying. Finally, I managed to shove her off in one triumphant push. I glared dangerously and lifted a fist, going through a quick mental checklist of what I had learned about throwing a punch that would simply disable someone.

As I began to swing my fist down, though, a pair of strong hands reached out of the crowd and held my arm back, halting its carefully measured trajectory. I tried breaking free, but the hands turned into strong arms that wrapped around my torso and lifted me away, dragging me backwards. I kicked out, not ready to be taken out of the fray without getting a solid shot in. 

As we rounded the corner, I saw Bobbi holding down the snarling redhead so she wouldn't follow. I knew who had a hold of me, and it made my blood boil all the more.  

"Jemma! What the hell?" 

"Get your greasy paws off me, Fitz!" I yelled as he all but threw me into what turned out to be a fairly large storage room.

"What's the matter with you?" He shut the door behind him so I wouldn't run back out. He was fully clothed again.

"Me?!" I growled, brushing the hair out of my face. "I was attacked, unprovoked! Ask what's the matter with your crazy _girlfriend_ if you want answers." 

 _"What?"_  

"You do know that she's engaged to be married, yeah?” I paced. “It is _just_ like you to go for the girls you know won't return your affections." 

Fitz stared at me open-mouthed. “Are you being serious right now?” 

"I just thought you had higher standards than - than _that."_  

"Jemma, what are you-?” He threw his hands in the air. “She's the _target_!" 

I stopped and stared at him, incredulous. "Well isn't that convenient?” I tapped my foot. “If you'd been listening to your comms, you’d have heard us _all_ trying to tell you that she's in fact _not_ the target at all.” Fitz cocked his head to the side, looking suitably surprised. “Hunter’s been trying all night to point out the target he identified. But of course you just _had_ to focus on - on." I shuddered.  

"Well. Well Hunter must’ve got it wrong…" He was looking down, suddenly unsure of himself again, his confidence shaken for a moment. My rage was too far-gone to fix it this time. 

"Please,” I spat. “There are many things that Hunter does not excel at, but he’s had a touch more experience with reconnaissance than _you_.”  

“Okay, fine, so I got the wrong target,” Fitz snapped, pushing right past confidence and landing in arrogance. “But I can do this dancing thing no problem now. And we’ve still got another shot, yeah? Unless you’ve just blown our covers with whatever _that_ was back there.” 

I scoffed audibly and tried to push past him for the door. I'd had enough of this. 

“Jemma?” He stood in front of me, raising an eyebrow and blocking the door. “What _was_ all that about?” 

“Nothing.” I glared. “It’s not important.” I tried to push past him again, but he put a hand on my shoulder and wouldn’t let me pass.  

“No you don’t. Tell me. What was that about?” I brushed his hand off me and stepped back. He looked right in my eyes, and I was about ready to smack him. Was he _enjoying_ this? “You didn’t just get in a fight because you were jeal-” 

“Fitz, leave it,” I snapped, glaring dangerously at him.  

“Why?” He drew his eyebrows together, eyes flitting between mine, like he was solving a puzzle. “You knew what we’d signed up for with this mission. You knew what I had to do. You can’t possibly-”  

“Fitz, I said _leave it_ ,” I said again, quietly. I stepped forward, right up in his space, challenging him to move back and let me storm out. He stood his ground. 

 “Why, Jemma?" His eyes blazed. "Why are you so angry? Just _say_ it!”  

 “Say what? What do you want me to say?” I held his eyes angrily and clenched my jaw tight. There he was, standing over me, his shirt only partially buttoned. And I now knew what was beneath it.  

All of a sudden, neither of us could stand it anymore. Something in the air broke. We moved together hungrily. Lips seeking out heat, hands clutching at skin, pulling each other closer and closer.  

My mind no longer processed information. This was pure ravenous instinct. I clutched his face, then slipped down his jawline, his neckline, gripping the top of his shirt. It was surprising how easy it was to free the buttons, even while his mouth pressed hot against my skin. My hands wasted no time touching the contours of his chest, exploring the sensations I’d pictured so vividly just a short time ago. I nearly growled when Fitz broke away. 

### Fitz

Simmons still wasn’t back yet. I closed the crack to the back-stage door, keeping a feeble grip on my nerves. She and Hunter should be back from the motel by now. I had things we needed to... well...  

Okay, on the one hand, I had no idea what I was going to say to her. Should I mention what I overheard her say to Hunter? I mean it's not like she confessed her undying love for me or anything. Just that she… _thought_ of me... And it was to _Hunter_ of all people. Since when did Simmons confide anything to Hunter?  

On the other, more immediate hand, the show was about to start and I'd never been more terrified in my life. She always knew what to say. Even if it was just a slight nod, it would make me feel more calm. Like I could do this.  

What was taking her so long? 

I paced restlessly for a moment, then was suddenly overcome with a surge of self-awareness. _The show was about to start_ _._ And, assuming she was still in one piece, Jemma was going to see it. She was going to see me. _All_ of me.  

I felt my face turn cold. This was no time to panic! 

"Angel," I rushed over and tapped the tall man on the arm. "Question." 

"Yeah!" He beamed down at me.  

"So- So what happens if... er... _you know_...?" 

"Hm?" He smiled patiently. I wasn't being clear. 

"Well I'll be pretty _exposed_ out there," I tried again. "What if I... you know... get _into_ it?" 

"You should." He furrowed his eyebrows, seeing that this clearly didn't answer my question. "What am I missing...?" 

"No no no. As in... You know." I pointed down with my eyes. " _Visibly_ into it." 

"Oh!" He considered me for a moment and then laughed. "Kid, if you don't get into it, you're doing it wrong." 

"But-" 

"Just enjoy the ride,” he grinned slyly. “Whatever happens, happens. That's what these women are paying for anyways. Not like you're gonna do anything about it." 

I blinked at him.  

"No seriously. Don't do anything about it," he looked pointedly at me. "Believe me they'll try. Hands. Everywhere. And that's a first-class ticket to getting an STI. Either keep it locked in or cover it up if you feel the need to y'know... indulge later." 

I gulped and stared straight ahead. Indulge? What had I gotten myself into? This was all Hunter's fault, and he wasn't even here for it! Yet. They would be here.  

Angel slapped me on the back. "You'll be fine! Stop looking like someone died!" 

I nodded numbly. Where was Simmons? I moved back to peer out the door again. Unfortunately, a tall woman with shiny black hair stood in the way of my view. I craned my neck to see around her, but it was no use. I grumbled and moved to a more private corner backstage, putting my finger to my ear.  

"Bobbi? Hey, Bobbi?" I whispered into the comms. A sharp buzz made me jump. I winced and adjusted it.  

"I'm here Fitz. What's up? Ready for your show?" 

"The first one anyway,” I said quickly, relieved to hear a friendly voice. “Are... Have you seen Hunter and...?" 

"I just saw them head in Fitz. They're fine. A little swarmed at the minute, but they're here." 

"Right. Okay. Good." Relief was quickly replaced by a sharp swoop in my stomach region. Jemma was definitely here. She would definitely see it – me – the dance. Hell. 

"They should know who the target is by now," Bobbi went on. "I'll check in. But keep your eyes open until you hear from me." 

I'd almost forgotten about the target. But it would be fine. If they already knew who it was then they'd just point me in that direction and I'd... you know... Get close enough to tag her... and it would be fine. Just fine. And if not… 

"I have another number," I blurted out. "I mean dance. After this. If I screw up, there's another shot at least." There was a pause on the other end. "Hello? Bobbi? You still there?" 

"Good job Fitz," she sounded impressed, if a little amused. "But for now just focus on the task at hand. One step at a time. You'll do great." 

I breathed out as the line went silent.  

Dixie was now on stage making the grand introduction to the revue show. Angel waved me over and I stepped back behind the curtain. It was time. I got in position and adjusted my costume nervously. Angel swatted my hand to make me stop, then, seeing my face, gave me a sympathetic thumbs up. It didn't help. 

We were on stage. Our heads were bowed in the darkness. I shut my eyes tight, running through all the steps in my mind. This was it. This was how I was going to die. No matter how much I'd prepared for this moment, no matter how much I'd trained and practiced, nothing could prepare me for the fear that welled up in my chest when faced with reality. I wasn't going to make it. The music started and we pumped our chests to the pulse of the song.     

 ** _Hot in..._**  

 ** _So Hot in Here..._**  

 ** _So Hot in..._**  

A silence fell ominously, drowning out everything but my thundering heartbeat. There was no going back. No escape. The spotlight flooded the stage and I looked up with a snap. 

 ** _Oh!_**  

I jumped on cue with the others. The bright lights immediately flooded my vision. I could hardly see a thing, so my body swayed to the beat almost automatically. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I was able to make out a silhouette by the bar. There was no question in my mind. It was Simmons. I swallowed. Simmons was staring right at me. She gave me a smile and a nod. The relief I felt was instantaneous. She was there, so whatever else happened, we could handle it. I grinned back. 

 ** _Want a little bit of ugh, ugh_**    
**_And a little bit of ugh, ugh_**  

I hit my poses on the beat, stamping my feet and thrusting my hip to the side. I then froze and waited for the others. The lights were hot, which I suppose would be a blessing fairly soon, once I’d shed a few layers. When the music picked up I realized it actually had a pretty enjoyable beat. Now that I could relax into it and play around a bit, I could absolutely get into doing this.   

 ** _I was like, good gracious ass bodacious_**    
**_Flirtatious,_** ** _tryin_** ** _' to show patience_**  

I beamed down at Simmons, remembering the dance elective we'd taken together. We'd had quite a bit of fun at times, whirling about, when she wasn't being a slave driver. We'd never danced to this type of music though, and we really should. It was just so... satisfying. Simmons grinned back at me from the floor, looking fairly impressed. It was rather confidence boosting. She shot me a look as if to say: _Wow! Where is this coming from?_ I winked and decided to have a bit of fun with it, just as Angel had advised. 

 ** _Wingin_** ** _' for the right time to shoot my steam (you know_** ** _)_**    
I thrust my hips forward on cue and gestured towards my crotch at “you know,” shrugging as though I did this sort of thing every day, no sweat! I was attempting to put myself in character, playing it just over the top enough. I could see Jemma laughing from across the club, and it made my chest swell, egging me on.  

 ** _No_** ** _deceivin_** ** _',_** ** _nothin_** ** _' up my sleeve, and no_** ** _teasin_** ** _'_**    
The other dancers and I pushed our sleeves up, stepping back into position. I kept my eyes on Simmons, wanting her to see this part.

 ** _I need you to get up_** ** _up_** ** _on the dance floor_**    
**_Give that man what he_** ** _askin_** ** _' for_**    
We lifted our arms, jumping on the spot, beckoning to the audience. I reached my hand out to Simmons, exaggerating my movements to make her laugh. Then I did some rather fancy footwork with the other men as Angel took the front, pumping up the women in the crowd. Simmons continued to look impressed.

 ** _Cuz_** ** _I feel like_** ** _bustin_** ** _' loose and I feel like_** ** _touchin_** ** _' you (Uh huh)_**    
**_And can’t nobody stop the juice, so baby tell me what’s the use_**    
As practiced, it was time to undo the first button of our shirts. Time for the real purpose of this dance. The real _show_ to start, as it were. I looked at Jemma and had a brief moment of nerves before I forced myself back into character. This was no time to lose control. The button came undone with a pop. I went for my second button, and realized Jemma was biting her lip, craning her neck to see better. Interesting... I pulled my hands away at the last second like the rest of the men and chuckled at the look of disappointment on Jemma's face. I wondered if I could play this up at all...  

 ** _I said_**    
**_Its_** ** _gettin_** ** _' hot in here (so hot)_**    
**_So take off all your clothes_**  
I raised my eyebrows and shot Jemma a saucy look before I crossed my legs and spun around to face the back with the others. When I ripped my shirt open on cue, the screams drowned out the music. I could only laugh. This was quite a rush!   
**_I am_** ** _gettin_** ** _' so hot, I_** ** _wanna_** ** _take my clothes off_**  

I grabbed the collar of my shirt and shimmied it slowly over my shoulders. I gave a sly, teasing look back at Jemma as if to say: _Should I?_ I would never get tired of seeing her laugh like that, even if I couldn't hear her properly over the cheers. On the beat, we all pulled our shirts right back on. I could feel Jemma roll her eyes and I grinned smugly to myself.                                                                  

 ** _I said_**    
**_Its_** ** _gettin_** ** _' hot in here (so hot)_**    
**_So take off all your clothes_**    
**_I am_** ** _gettin_** ** _' so hot, I_** ** _wanna_** ** _take my clothes off_**    
When we spun back around and rolled our exposed chests, I readied myself for my next exaggerated move. But the expression on her face caught me off guard. She was watching my hands almost hungrily as they moved down my front. She was clearly affected by the state of me. Perhaps she really had thought of me _like_ _that_ more than I ever realized... _How_ had I never realized it?  

When it was time for my shirt to come completely off, she held my eyes. She wasn't smiling anymore. I continued to move to the music, my muscles remembering the steps, which was a blessing because I was finding it difficult to think through the adrenaline that coursed through me. Our eyes remained locked. I rolled my body and hit the beat. Off came my shirt. I tossed it away. I could see the blush creep into her cheeks even through the dim light. Still, we held our gaze. 

When I realized the big moment was coming, my hands went to the hem of my pants on command. Belt. Velcro. And that was all there was to it. My heart hammered in my chest, staring back at her intently, both curious and terrified of her reaction.  

With a sharp tug at the fabric, I was exposed. A pang of embarrassment shot through my chest. I was standing there in only a thong and bowtie, nothing left for the imagination. Simmons looked away almost immediately, and I was ready to melt into the floor in that moment... But then, miraculously, she turned back.  

Jemma’s eyes were on me. Like, _on me_ on me. They roved up and down my body, taking in every inch, a smile dancing against her lips. I was expecting to feel uncomfortable at the very least, to feel exposed under such scrutiny. But with Jemma's eyes on me, standing naked in front of a group of women was somehow completely fine. Perhaps a bit breezy.  

The music kept going though, and it was time to move off the stage. Time for me to do my actual job here. I quickly glanced around to see what types of hype the other men were building with the audience. I whipped my head back to Jemma for more reassurance, but she wasn't looking anymore. She was back making drinks. I took a deep breath. As she should. It was time to dive in and step into my role of undercover agent. 

I danced along the stage, soaking in the cheers and appreciation from the crowd and moving to the beat. It was absolutely ego-boosting, but it was also starting to feel a bit overwhelming. It was the sheer volume of it all, having so _many_ eyes on me. I had a job to do though, so I turned my eyes, instead, on them.  

Who was she? Bobbi still hadn't given me information on who I should be looking for, so it was time to do my own spying. Many of the other women were leaning in to their friends, giggling like schoolgirls, "subtly" pointing at the different men on the stage coming towards them. The more brash women would scream and wave their bills towards us, or push their more timid friends forward.  

The other dancers knew exactly how to play the crowd. I watched Angel make eye contact and smile warmly at a woman I would have thought was too shy. When he approached her, it looked like he was simply starting a friendly conversation... until he straddled her lap. She started to blush and giggle into her hand, but he kept chatting with her and smiling as he moved against her, and before long, she was whooping with her friends and looked completely comfortable, even flattered. That man was a professional! How was I supposed to match that skill? 

I glanced around again, and saw the redheaded bride-to-be that had been at the bar earlier yesterday. She wasn't wearing her crown or sash or anything, and was walking across the room. As I watched, she stopped at the back and pulled something out of her clutch, looking around suspiciously. Was that a thumb drive? She punched something into her phone, looking miffed, and then tucked everything back into her pocket. She shook her hair out and plastered a fake smile on her face, heading back over to her table of friends as though nothing were wrong.  

Well that was suspicious.  

I looked over at where Bobbi was sitting, and she was casually speaking into her earpiece. I couldn't hear anything. My comms must be out again. I was on my own. She must have noticed the redhead's suspicious activity as well, so I decided to go with it. I caught Bobbi’s eye, and she nodded for me to carry on. It was a go.  

I moseyed over to her table and did my best to stay in character. Confident. Smooth. Approachable. Thank goodness Jemma was distracted for this.  

"How's your night going?" I said suavely, laying on my accent as thick as I could. 

"What?” Perhaps too thick. “I thought you were the bartender," she tittered before I could try again, looking me up and down.  

"I'm a man of many talents," I said, toning my accent down a touch. "Mind if I demonstrate?" She grinned coyly. Excellent. In-character Fitz was nailing the smooth talk. 

The girls around the table squealed with delight. I winced internally, but gave a pleasant smile to my audience. Someone tucked a few bills into the side of my thong with a giggle, and that meant I was in. Go time. I could do this.  

The redhead downed a shot right before I moved for her lap. I waited for her to place the shot glass back down before carrying on. Then, I did exactly as I had been shown. Hands in her hair. Friendly eye contact. Move hips to music. Not so bad. I'd be able to tag her before the song was over, and be applauded back at the base for what a quick and easy job I'd done. No video footage necessary.  

But then she let out an ear-splitting " _Woo_ _!_ " The girl's sneaky hands tried to pull at my thong. I flinched and looked at her with surprise. She had a mischievous grin on her face. I wasn't quite ready to completely expose myself to a perfect stranger. I smiled casually and removed her hand, placing it instead on my chest, far more neutral territory. She snaked her hands down my chest swiftly though. I just barely caught her wrist before she could grab hold of my most sensitive bits. 

She was determined. Even while I kept her at bay by pressing her hands to other parts of my body, she tried to lean forward and blow kisses at me. I leaned back subtly, still smiling, but completely surprised at how forward she was being. Angel was right. It was a full-time job to keep her distracted. 

My fears from earlier of being, well, _visibly_ into the dance, were somewhat realized. In fact, it seemed that it’s what she was aiming for with her nimble little ninja hands. The more attention she put on it, though, the less excited I appeared to be getting. And she began to look miffed about it. I didn't want to appear rude, especially if she was a dangerous hydra agent, so I did the only thing I could think of to boost myself up again... I thought of Jemma.  

With her, it had been so different than this. I’d thought our practice session was normal at the time, but there was a kind of heat between us that was clearly lacking in this real-world attempt. Perhaps that's what made Jemma think of me like this and that's all there was to it. Nothing lasting, just the results of a certain biological chemistry. Was that enough? 

I hardly had a moment to place the subtle tag between the redhead’s shoulder-blades before it was time to head back to the stage. But I managed it. Don't ask me how. I pushed away from the gaggle of squealing girls, having completed the mission.   

It was incredibly more fun dancing back to the stage. Far less terrifying. I didn't see Jemma over at the bar, but I found I didn't actually need her for support anymore. I was able to actually enjoy the music on my own and hit all the moves, even throw in some improvisations.  

The other guys and I did our last few hits of the song and then posed for the grand finale, breathing heavily, lapping up the wild applause.  

I'd done it! Aside from the awkwardness of the lap dance, it was far more fun than I had expected it to be. What a rush!  

The lights went dark and I shuffled off through the curtains with the other guys backstage. I was looking forward to being clothed again between numbers. Nakedness wasn't so bad, but without the heat of those lights, it got far too chilly. That, and with the enthusiasm of this crowd, you didn't always know whose hands were on you. I decided that as soon as I was clothed, I'd let Bobbi and Hunter know I'd tagged the agent, then I'd find Jemma and ask if I could use her for the next lap dance... Whatever that confusing heat between us was – whether it was chemistry or something more, I'd much prefer being close to her if I had the choice.  

"Man, new guy, you weren't half bad!" One of the guys slapped my back as I reached for my trousers.  

"Thanks," I beamed. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.  

"Did you see him eye-fucking the bartender?” He nudged his friend. I jerked my head in surprise. “On Point, man! They can't teach that shit,” he raised his hand to me for a high-five. “She was just begging for it." I numbly raised my hand and accepted the smack without enthusiasm. 

“I-I wouldn’t say begging for it…” 

"And then he went for the redhead and got a _way_ bigger tip! Man, you're a stone-cold player!" 

"What? No, I was just-" 

Angel laughed as he buttoned his vest at his locker. "Leave him alone guys, he's just learning. The bartender’s his friend." I was grateful to Angel for trying, but the other guys chuckled knowingly. 

"Right, man. Friends. Wish all my friends eye-fucked like that!" Before I could say anything more, they hopped back out into the club. Angel laughed at my expression. I must have looked as confused and defeated as I felt.  

"You have that talk with her yet?" 

"Course not,” I sat with a huff, pulling my pants up over my legs. “Haven't had time..." 

Angel considered me carefully, crossing his arms. "Can I make a suggestion?"  I shrugged. "Talk now, before your solo number. The sooner the better. Cuz the guys weren't wrong. There was some serious heat between you two before you went and climbed on top of another woman. In my experience that doesn't usually end well." 

"Nah, it was my job though,” I waved him off, shrugging my shirt back over my shoulders. “Simmons knows that." 

"Yeah, my boyfriend knows that too,” Angel tilted his head. “Doesn't mean he doesn't feel insecure about it every time I get home from a long night at work.” He sighed heavily and sat down next to me. “I actually met him here. Sam. He was my best customer, so he knew what I did from the very start. He knows I love it, and supports me and accepts that it's my decision and all,” he explained, “but he can't handle coming here anymore without us getting into a fight after." He sighed then looked at me to make sure I was getting the message.  

I shrugged again. "But Simmons-" 

"Dude, just trust me on this. You need to talk with her." Angel stood and reached his hand out to help me up. 

"I doubt she'll care,” I accepted his hand and stood, brushing my pants off. “It takes a lot to phase Simmons," I smiled, hoping it would mask the discomfort I was feeling. 

Angel shook his head as we pushed open the backstage door. We were met with angry wails and cheers. Angel looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "You sure about that?" 

I ran forward as fast as I could.  

Jemma and the redhead grappled against each other, nails and hair flying. Jemma finally managed to shove her off in one defiant push. "Jemma!" I called out, but she didn't hear me. Instead, to my astonishment, she lifted her arm back and curled her hand into a fist, taking aim. I launched myself through the crowd that had formed around them and managed to grab hold of her arm, stopping it mid-swing. She wrestled against me, trying breaking free, but I wrapped my arms around her torso and dragged her away. She kicked out, growling as I dragged her back through the cheering women with all my strength. 

I have no idea how I managed to get the door open. She was far stronger than I remembered. We were well on the other side of it before I realized it was the storage room. It would do. She growled and struggled until finally I held her still, blocking her path. 

"Jemma! What the hell?" I panted. 

“Get your greasy paws off me, Fitz!” She pushed me away and I stepped back, raising my arms. I saw her eyes flick over to the exit and I shut the door behind me so she wouldn't run back out.  

“What’s the matter with you?” 

“Me?!" She growled, red in the face. "I was attacked, unprovoked! Ask what's the matter with your crazy _girlfriend_ if you want answers." 

 _"What?"_  

"You do know that she's engaged to be married, yeah?” She paced. “It is _just_ like you to go for the girls you know won't return your affections." 

I stared at Jemma open-mouthed. “Are you being serious right now?” 

"I just thought you had higher standards than - than _that."_  

"Jemma, what are you-?” I threw my hands in the air. Had she forgotten we were on a mission? “She's the _target_!" 

She stopped and stared at me like I was a fascinating insect on her shoe "Well isn't that convenient?” She tapped her foot. “If you'd been listening to your comms, you’d have heard us _all_ trying to tell you that she's in fact _not_ the target at all.” I cocked my head to the side. What? “Hunter’s been trying all night to point out the target he identified. But of course you just _had_ to focus on - on." She shuddered.  

"Well. Well Hunter must’ve got it wrong…" I looked down. But I'd seen the redhead with a thumb-drive, hadn't I? She was acting suspiciously... right? 

"Please,” Jemma spat angrily. “There are many things that Hunter does not excel at, but he’s had a touch more experience with reconnaissance than _you_.”  

“Okay, fine, so I got the wrong target,” I snapped, finding it hard to believe that she was actually pissed off because of _this_ now. “But I can do this dancing thing no problem now. And we’ve still got another shot, yeah? Unless you’ve just blown our covers with whatever _that_ was back there.” 

She huffed, clenching her jaw, and tried to push past me for the door. 

“Jemma?” I stood in front of her, blocking her way. “What _was_ all that about?” 

“Nothing.” She glared. “It’s not important.” She tried to step past me again. 

“No you don’t," I put a calming hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She was being far more dramatic than I'd ever seen her, and I didn't know what to do about it. "Tell me. What was that about?” She pushed my hand off and stepped away, pressing her lips firmly together. I smirked, trying to get a rise out of her or at least lighten the tone. “You didn’t just get in a fight over me because you were jeal-” 

“Fitz, leave it,” She snapped, glaring dangerously at me.  

“Why?” I frowned, trying to figure out what was going through her head. “You knew what we’d signed up for with this mission. You knew what I had to do. You can’t possibly-”  

“Fitz, I said _leave it_ ,” she said again in a low voice. She stepped forward, her blazing eyes challenging me to let her pass.  

 “Why, Jemma?" I stood my ground. "Why are you so angry? Just _say_ it!”  

 “Say what?" She hissed. "What do you want me to say?” We were a breath apart. My eyes flicked between hers, sparks flying in the sudden silence.  

And then something in the air between us broke. My lips were on her and she clutched desperately at my shirt, pulling me in tight. The heat was overwhelming as we pushed ourselves together, consumed by need.  

Her mouth moved hungrily down towards my collarbone. The buttons of my shirt came undone easily and her hands eagerly roamed my chest. Her touch felt amazing, better than I'd ever imagined it would. This was like some sort of fantasy playing out that was better in reality than I could have ever hoped... 

And of course, that's when my brain caught up with what has happening. How had this started? What did it mean? Was it just a blip? Was it more? I broke away. 

"Hold on-" I tried to catch my breath and look her in the eyes, but she pressed her mouth to mine again, cutting me off. I held her shoulders and managed to pull away. 

“Wait, we should really discuss…” I breathed heavily. 

She drew her eyebrows together and bit her lip. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and slef-doubt. She held her eyes closed for a moment to regain control of herself. “Yeah. Talk. Good idea,” she breathed. When her eyes opened again, though, there was a determined hunger simmering just beneath the surface. My stomach swooped. 

I adjusted my hand against her shoulder and opened my mouth, but no words came. I dropped my hand to my side, hoping a proper sentence would miraculously form. She leaned in ever so slightly, eyes locked onto me. I leaned in too. I let out a low growl of frustration and finally pushed my lips against her once more. She gasped and pulled me in flush against her body.   

Our restless hands began to explore, no longer thinking. Her fingers danced on the edge of my belt, but hesitated. I let out a mixture of a gasp and a whimper as her hands moved lower, gradually getting more bold as they traced the very excited outline of me through the fabric.  

I growled and hoisted her up onto a nearby table. I kissed her fiercely as her hands stroked against me more firmly. They were hot and passionate even through the cloth. My mouth fell open as a moan escaped. I greedily nibbled on her earlobe and stole fervent kisses down her throat while I still had a small bit of control over myself. My lips clung to her every time her hands pressed against me, wanting more.  

I clutched my hands into the fabric of her shirt, restlessly trying to take in as much of her as I could. They finally found relief in the soft fullness of her breasts. I gave them a light squeeze and she let out a gasp. My fingers pushed the fabric of her neckline away, far too eager to focus on buttons. I traced my lips down her chest. She threw her head back with a moan as my tongue flicked out against her soft skin.  

Breathlessly, she kissed the side of my face and fumbled at the zipper of my jeans. I grinned down, watching her work with such desperate determination. She was stopped short by my hands suddenly finding their way against the inside of her thighs. I really did love that skirt she was wearing. I smiled against her lips and kissed her deeply again, drawing circles with my fingertips closer and closer to the heat between her legs. She closed her eyes and whimpered, and finally, I pulled away from the kiss. I looked down at her, eyes full of desire. Her mouth dropped open in ecstasy as I pushed the damp fabric of her underwear aside and thrust two fingers deep inside her and held them in place.  

She looked back at me breathlessly, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her eyes held mine, flitting through a hypnotic array of expressions. First surprise, then certainty, then sheer pleasure. When she realized I hadn’t moved my fingers, she gave me a hard look and tried to rock her hips back and forth. I kissed her quickly but held her hips firmly in place against the table. Just as she looked like she was about to explode from frustration, I flicked my thumb up against her small warm bundle of nerves, and she gasped, biting into my shoulder. I grinned to myself and did it again. Now there was no stopping her. She rocked her hips in small circles against my hand, trying to push further. Before she could get carried away, I drew my fingers back out slowly. She lifted her head and glared at me in protest, so I thrust my fingers inside her again, deeper, and her breath hitched. I fluttered them around, enjoying the slick feeling of her, and the nearly inhuman sounds that escaped her delicious lips. My thumb brushed up again, and I drew my fingers back out. Then in, deeper, and again in an increasingly firm rhythm.  

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as Jemma’s mouth gasping for air as she tried to keep her eyes on me, fighting the waves of pleasure that were forcing them closed. I could see her brain working, trying to figure out a way to solve all of her needs. The next time I thrust into her, the corner of her mouth twitched into a grin. She reached a hand into my unzipped pants and grasped onto me, firm and hot. I had been going in for a kiss, but at her touch, my mouth gaped open just millimeters away from her lips. Her hot breath ghosted against my skin and I leaned my forehead against hers. She pressed a hot kiss into my cheek as her hand wrapped around me and gently stroked. My fingers were still deep inside her, forgotten as the new sensations overtook my brain.  

She let out a breathy laugh as she pushed my pants down to afford a better angle for her strokes. She thought she was in complete control right now… My eyes found hers. I fluttered my fingers against her, challenging her, reminding her that I still had some control. She gasped, then swirled her thumb around the head of me, and I groaned. Not ready to give in just yet, I pulled my fingers back out, and flicked my thumb against her in response. She bit her lip and rocked her hips, craving more of all the sensations together. I waited just long enough for her determined expression to falter, then I grinned smugly to myself, and thrust three strong fingers deep inside her again. In response she gave me a soft tug. We breathed together, refusing to break eye contact.  

I soon realized how much closer we’d become. She stroked and tugged me until I was rubbing against the inside of her thigh. Hardly thinking anymore, only reveling in the sensations that we were giving each other and wanting more, I put my hands against the wall behind her. Her legs were wrapped around my waist. She grasped hold of me and swirled the tip of me around her hot, slick entrance. We both groaned. Finally, I was in position. This wasn’t the right time, or the right setting. We had zero preparation, not even a condom, but damn if either of us could hold back at this point.  

Her eyes bore into mine. The same questions were going through her mind, and the same determination, the same hunger. All that was left was for me to press myself deep within her, and there would be no turning back. It was all up to me. She gave a quiet, pleading nod. I took a deep breath, and then there was a loud knock on the storage room door.  

We both swore and jumped apart. There was a terrifying second where we both fumbled about. Jemma smoothed down her skirt and hair, and I tucked myself back in with a quick zip, deciding to leave my shirt unbuttoned. Then we both leaned casually against the table, a foot away from each other, crossing our arms over our chests. Hunter's head appeared.  

"Everything alright back here?" 

"Mmhmm,"    "Yeah." We spoke at the same time.  

Hunter looked between the two of us with outright suspicion. "Right. Sorry to break… _this_ … up... but..." I looked over at Jemma, but she refused to meet my eyes. Instead she pasted a casual smile on her face and nodded for Hunter to go on. "Looks like we got the Agent in our sights. We need you two on deck." 

"Of course," Jemma stood.   

"Yeah, we'll be out in just a sec," I lifted a hand hesitantly. Things had almost got out of hand. Well, they did very seriously get out of hand, actually, but they could have gone much further. And we still hadn’t talked. If Hunter hadn't interrupted us... I placed a hand on her arm to hold her back. 

Jemma stopped mid-stride, staring at my hand like it had given her a shock. She shook her head to clear her mind, and I knew she was going to walk away. She brushed my hand off and turned back to the door.  

"No, I think we're done here. Lead the way, Hunter." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Group Number: Hot in Herre, Nelly


	4. Interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Interruption** _[in-tehr- **rup** -shuh n]:_ To do or say something that causes a break in the natural flow and order. Especially something that causes someone to stop speaking. 

### Simmons

I sat in the bathroom stall with my head in my hands. What had I done? That hadn't been like me at all. I'd just been so overwhelmed with the mission and that ridiculous girl, and then Fitz was there and he looked so- and he was- and then we- I closed my eyes, remembering the electricity shooting through me at his touch. My stomach swooped like a traitor.

I banged my head against the stall again. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ I had far more control than this usually. How could I have let my emotions get the better of me? I was stronger than this. Now I had no idea what the state of my most important relationship was. I'd made it rocky and precarious all because I couldn't restrain myself. _Stupid!_

The hard truth was, I was terrified. My feelings for Fitz had likely always been there bubbling under the surface, but we'd always known never to cross that line – and with good reason!

I'd been in enough situations with other men at the Academy to know that sex made things messy. Feelings and emotions always got in the way of things. What would have once been a perfectly interesting and lively relationship somehow got watered down with incompatible expectations and would inevitably end with someone getting their feelings hurt and walking away. Permanently. As soon as romance got involved, that was always it. The relationship was doomed one way or another. It's just how these things worked.

Fitz was far too important for that. I had never wanted to risk our relationship that way. Even at sixteen it was abundantly clear to me that Fitz was someone I needed by my side. His input to our projects, the discussions we had, they were the best things that had ever happened to me, and they meant far more than any date or chaste kiss ever could. I never wanted that ruined by the dulling effects of hormones or the strain that romance put on a relationship. I needed Fitz. Forever, if at all possible. And I didn't want to lose that to whatever I had just thrust upon him in that supply closet.

A groan of frustration escaped my lips. There was nothing else for it. We would just have to talk. I would have to apologize and hope that our friendship was strong enough to overcome this momentary weakness. I couldn't let this spiral any further out of control.

My eyes opened and I took in a deep breath to steady myself. There, staring right back at me, was the earpiece I'd thrown away earlier. I let a bemused gust of air escape my nostrils. Well, that's technically why I'd come in here, wasn't it?

I knelt to the floor and picked up the communication device. I examined it and brought it over to the sink, giving it a quick wipe with disinfectant. I took a deep breath and inserted it back into my ear, lifting my chin to prepare for what was on the other end.

_"-aby, leaving so soon?"_

I cringed internally at Fitz's attempt at being suave. This was going to be difficult.

 _"Fitz, man, relax!"_ It was Hunter, whispering through a cringe of his own. _"She may be a Hydra Agent, but she's still human. Don't spook her."_

The Hydra Agent had been attempting to leave the club, which was what had caused Hunter to come fetch us. We couldn't lose our window of opportunity now that Fitz had already wasted his first major chance to get close to her by tagging the wrong girl. He was forced to go in for round two rather immediately. He had to flirt.

 _“And how’s your night going, beautiful?”_ Had he just put on his American accent? There was a rustle over the comms and I could only imagine what Fitz was attempting.

 _“For the love of -! Will you put your hands down? You look like you’re posing for maternity photos.”_ Hunter was not helping.

 _“You’re in my way,”_ said a cold female voice.

_“’course. Sorry.”_

_“Don’t apologize! Get in there!”_ Hunter moaned.

 _“I mean, yeah, I_ am _in your way. What’re you gonna do about it? Missy?”_

 _Missy?_ I was so glad I couldn’t see what was happening.

_“Listen kid, I’m sure you’re a lot of fun, but here’s some advice on your first day. When a girl grabs her wallet and heads for the door, you’re not getting a tip from her.”_

_“Maybe you’re the only girl I wanted a tip from…”_ he said. There was silence for several heartbeats.

_“Don’t follow me out.”_

“Fitz, just tag her!” I hissed into the comms, unable to stand it anymore.

There was a muffled hrmph and then more silence. I stared at myself in the mirror, noting the heavy shade of red creeping up my neck. One. Two. Three. … Five…

 _“It’s done,”_ he said finally. I released my breath. _“She’s tagged.”_ I didn’t want to know the details. It was over. And I hadn’t had to watch.

 _“Good job, Fitz,”_ Bobbi said, rather surprised. _“Hunter, you’re with me. Meet me in the alley out back. We’re following her.”_

That was my cue. I adjusted my hair and examined myself in the mirror again. My face was still a bit splotchy, but it was fading well enough for the dim lights of the club. I glanced at my neck and frowned, brushing my hair over my shoulders again to cover it. That's as good as it would get. Time to come out of hiding and face the music.

Fitz was still on the other side of the club when I emerged. He glanced over in my direction, and I turned away quickly, trying to still the swooping of my stomach. I scurried behind the bar and looked around at the chaos it had descended into.

"Hunter! What have you been doing back here? It's a complete mess," I hissed, exasperated.

"Feeling better are we?" Hunter smirked, ignoring my irritation. "All _cleaned up_ , as it were?"

I made a face at him.

"Just had some trouble locating my earpiece, is all," I tapped my ear. "Right as rain now."

He looked at me skeptically, then tried a different tack.

"So... our boy managed it," he nodded across the room to where Fitz was. "Flirted up a storm, that one." 

"So I heard." Fitz was currently chatting with one of the other dancers. Angel, I believe it was. I forced my eyes down, focused on collecting the stray glasses and bottles to put everything back in its proper order.

"Surprisingly good with women, that one..."

I stood up straight and rolled my eyes at Hunter. I knew what he was doing, and I refused to take the bait. I shoved a bottle into his hand and pointed to the spot on the shelf where it needed to go. "Don't you have to go meet Bobbi?"

"Fine," he sniffed and placed the bottle back on the counter. "Don't tell me what I walked in on. I can fill in the blanks..." He eyed me hopefully. I blinked once, humorlessly, reaching behind him and putting the bottle away myself. "You know this is exactly how rumors are started," he crossed his arms. "If you just _tell_ me, it'll be between us. I'll have no reason to theorize with the rest of the team!" I continued to glare and spun him around towards the door of the bar. "Or just keep quiet," he swung around and leaned over the counter. "Just be ready to live with the consequences."

" _Nothing_ happened, Hunter," I said, hearing my voice squeak involuntarily. He raised his eyebrow at me, intrigued. I cleared my throat and readjusted my face to look deadly serious again. "And besides, who would believe you over us? We'll just deny it."

He held up a finger and froze.

" _Hunter, where are you? She's getting in her car,_ " Bobbi barked into our ears.

Hunter scrunched his mouth together in frustration, and I smiled back sweetly. "Just on my way, love!" He narrowed his eyes at me and tapped the counter with his finger. "Make sure to record his solo. We'll need evidence of that. Forever."

"Go, Hunter."

"And you'll also need something to re-watch before bed..."

I reached over and tried to smack the side of his head before he ran off, missing by a hair.

***

The bar wasn't nearly as busy as I was expecting it to be. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was able to keep up better without Hunter getting in the way. It was helping, having this to focus on and perfect my bartending skills. Measuring and pouring concoctions always managed to soothe my nerves and get me out of my head.

I had just put the last of the stray bottles back in the proper order when I glanced over to where Fitz had been standing. The spot empty. I craned my neck in a fleeting moment worry until a man cleared his throat behind me. I spun around.

“You must be Jemma,” the tall man offered a hand out to me. “Thought I’d officially introduce myself, finally. I’m Angel. I’ve heard so much about you!”

I shook his hand, somewhat dazed and embarrassed at my moment of concern. There was nothing to be worried about anymore – the Hydra Agent had left and was being tracked. It should all be smooth sailing until our shifts were over. Fitz appeared just behind Angel's shoulder, hands in his pockets, smiling, but looking nervous. Right. Nothing to be worried about at all.

“I'm here to help out!” Angel beamed. "Point me where you need me!"

"Oh! Well, that's lovely," I said, glancing over at Fitz. He looked like he was working out how to say something, and I felt panic surge through me. "You know, I've actually got a lot of it covered. It's not nearly as bad as earlier and-"

Angel stepped through the little doorway, plucked up a bottle and spun it around his back, pouring a line of shots and handing it to the waiting ladies with a wink. I couldn't deny how impressive it was. And efficient. I glanced nervously over at Fitz again who had been staring at me the entire time. I felt my face colour.

“Ah, Jemma, could we…” I glanced around, trying to think of some excuse. Angel had started to put on a bit of a show at the bar and clearly did not need any help from me.

“Right," I conceded. "Yes, I suppose…” I stepped carefully out from behind the bar again and tried to keep a safe distance between myself and my best friend. He moved right in beside me, though, and placed a hand to the small of my back, guiding me away from the crowd. I gulped and focused very intently on keeping my head clear.

We settled into a dark corner, far enough away from the crowd for some privacy, but still public enough that I couldn't lose control again. We stood there for a moment, not looking at each other. When it all became too much, I finally spoke.

“Listen I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have-”    “I still have a dance to do and would it be okay if-”

“Wait, what?” We both said in unison.

“No, you first,” I gestured politely.

“Okay…” he looked at me cautiously. “I was just… I still have a solo dance coming up and… would it be okay if, that is, Angel offered to cover you at the bar so I could, you know… _dance_ … With you - If that’s okay…”

“Ah,” I said slowly. I wasn't sure I could trust myself with another _dance_ of his. “Fitz…” His eyes were so full of hope, but the longer I stalled, the more firmly his mouth pressed together, the further his shoulders drooped, like he knew what I was going to say. Which was a marvel because I hardly knew what to say myself.

“Just forget it,” he finally said. “Bad idea…”

“I just think it would be a mistake is all,” I tried.

He exhaled. “Yeah, no, completely understand,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his head and turning away. I sighed. This was it. This was why we’d never crossed that line. But at least now we could still salvage our relationship. We hadn’t gone _too_ far. He would just be sore for a few days and then it would be fine. We could move past this.

“Actually,” he spun back around. I held my breath. “No, I don’t understand at all, Jemma. What the hell?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I _mean?_ I wasn’t alone in that room. If Hunter hadn’t-”

“If Hunter hadn’t interrupted we both would have done something we would have regretted.”

“ _Regretted?_ ” He took a step back. He clearly hadn’t been expecting me to use that word. The look on his face twisted my insides.

“No, you know what I mean!” I tried to explain, “I got carried away, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Fitz. Sex always mucks things up and I-”

“Is that really all that was to you? Just sex?”

A muffled noise burst through our ear drums, then a strangled " _Knew_ it!!" Followed by a thud.

We both froze, not sure where that came from. It took us both a second to catch on, at which point I closed my eyes tightly and pushed a finger to my ear. “… _Hunter?!_ ”

There was a moment of static, then Bobbi’s voice came through the comms. “ _Yeah. Sorry. We're both here…_ ” She sounded mortified. “ _Looks like we all left the comms on. Just- we’ll give you two some privacy..._ ”

“ _Are you joking? They said_ Sex!” Hunter squealed. “ _We need details. What base are we talking here?”_ There was another thud and then, “ _Ow! Bobbi, what the-_ ” and then silence.

Fitz and I both removed our ear-pieces, avoiding eye contact. I worried my hands together uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, I looked up and opened my mouth. “What do you want from me, Fitz? Really?” His expression was unreadable. A split second more, and I might have been able to see what was going on behind his eyes. But then he steeled himself off and returned my gaze, as unsure of what to say as I was.

I took a small step forward and grabbed his hand. “Because I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’d do if things changed between us. You mean too much to me. If we get romance involved, we’ll inevitably muck it all up. And then...”

Fitz cut me off with a heavy sigh and removed his hand from mine. “I… I better go get ready. Solo coming up soon so…”

“Right. Of course.” I waited for him to say something more.

“I…” He stopped for a moment, but then appeared to change his mind and turned back away. “I’ll see you after.”

I watched him stock off. It took everything in me not to go after him. This was the right thing. We could move past this.

***

“So what you guys talk about?” Angel nudged my arm as I stepped behind the bar. He took one look at my face and his grin dropped like a stone. “Oh. Not good?”

“Oh, you know. Just pre-show jitters is all,” I flicked a small smile up at him and grabbed hold of one of the glasses. This bar managed to feel smaller every time I stepped back here. I’d be very glad to see the last of it as soon as this whole mission was completed.

“Uh huh…” Angel said skeptically. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a terrible liar?” I blinked at him. He cocked his head and smiled. “Well you are.”

“I'd really rather not discuss this at the moment,” I ducked my head down and grabbed one of the liqueur bottles.

“Right. Totally your call. We won’t discuss the elephant in the room. Boundaries: respected.”

I tutted and began to pour into the glass. I could feel his eyes on me even as I handed the cocktail to the customer and processed her change.

“Can I just say one thing?” He leaned against the counter.

I closed my eyes. “What is it?”

“You’ve got balls, girl. Like big hairy lady-balls.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Hun, please," he held a hand up to me. "No one’s ever tried taking on that firecracker before. The redhead? Total bitch, right?" Angel's smile was wide and genuine. And rather infectious. I brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "She’s here _all the time_ , and so many of us guys would give half our tips to tell her off like you did. And you got her kicked out! _Huge_ balls.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised and oddly flattered. “Well, thank you.”

“So what’d she say? What tipped you over the edge?” He tucked his fist under his chin, leaning forward, ready for the juicy gossip.

“Oh, well…”

“It was something about your outfit? The drinks? The music?”

“Actually…”

“It was about Fitz, wasn’t it?”

“I mean…”

“Did she go with the small dick excuse again?” I gaped back, shocked at his bluntness. Angel took that as confirmation and shook his head knowingly. “Girl, if I’ve heard it once I’ve heard it a thousand times. Let me tell you, most people are satisfied with what they got. You feel me?" His hand rested on his hip with the utmost sass. "What’s homegirl expecting, a footlong sausage? No one’s got that. No one _wants_ that.” My face was extremely hot at this point. “And okay, yeah, you gotta have _something_ big to be in our line of work, obviously. But that can be _personality_ , that can be muscles, that can be dance moves, _whatever_. At the end of the day, no one _really_ cares about the size of whatever’s getting thrust in their face so long as it _is_ getting thrust in their face. _Amiright?_ ”

I stared at him and nodded a little numbly. “Um, yes. Absolutely.”

“Sorry,” Angel shook himself off. “I really needed to get that out. Did I mention the bitch bothers me?”

I chuckled a little, feeling the tension start to wane. “You may have mentioned it.”

“Thank you for getting her kicked out. Seriously.”

“My pleasure,” I grinned. Angel was really starting to grow on me.

“So you and Fitz, huh? What’s the deal?”

My smile faded almost instantaneously. “It’s nothing. We just… we’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Jemma, no! You _have_ to see how mad that boy is about you!" I pursed my lips and gave a stiff shrug. "Please tell me you didn’t friend-zone him again!”

At that, I bristled. “ _Excuse me,_ but why does everyone use that term like it’s such a bad thing?" I tossed my towel down onto the counter with a fair amount of force. This was constantly a problem with people, time and again, and I was sick of it. "The _friend-zone_ as you so gratuitously call it, is a place of the utmost importance, I'll have you know." Angel nodded, surprised at my sudden change in mood. "I would much rather call someone a _friend_ and show them that I value their company as a _lasting endeavor_ as opposed to whatever 'hump em and dump em' culture is so prevalent these days. A _friend_ doesn’t get pushed out of your life when a puerile attempt at dating inevitably fails," I spat. "Because that’s how it is. No one really remains friends after ending a more than platonic relationship, no matter how much they say they will. He’s too important to throw away like that.”

Angel stood with his hands up, blinking. He couldn’t have been more shocked if I’d pulled a gun out on him. “Damn. You’ve been needing to get that out too, huh?”

“I’m just… tired of people putting romanticized expectations on us. We’re perfectly happy as we are, thank you very much.”

“Mmhmm…” Angel hummed sarcastically, making a show of not saying anything. I glared at him. “Sorry, but that's clearly not true,” he said, all but bursting.

“It has to be!” I all but shouted.

“Oh honey. I thought you were way more of an optimist than that. Look at you. How long have you known each other?”

“Ten years…”

“Shit!" He put a hand on his waist. "Seriously? New meaning to the term blue balls…” I continued to glare. “Sorry! It’s just… why are you so afraid of it ending before it’s even begun? You’ve known each other _ten_ fucking _years!_ What could possibly happen at this point that would make either of you walk away?”

“I don’t know. A lot of things…”

“Like…?”

“Well I can’t just list things off! It’s complicated.”

“Nah, it’s not complicated. Not really. If he’s really as important to you as you say he is, at least hear what he’s got to say about it first.”

“But what if it all ends?”

“Jemma. Seriously. You’ve got big hairy lady-balls," he grinned. "Use them for God’s sake!”

I chewed on my lip, hugging myself tightly. Angel did have a small point. I had yet to hear what Fitz thought about this whole business. For all I knew, he felt the same and just needed to process it. A mild wash of fear ran through my chest, and before I could stop the thought from forming, I realized that I certainly hoped he wanted more. He was always the more idealistic one. But how could I bring it up again? I'd already said my part and Fitz didn't seem willing to talk about it further.

“I know one thing you could do to start off…” Angel nodded patiently towards the stage. “Go on. What'll it hurt? I know you want to.”

“But what if-”

“Okay, no. Just no!" Angel stood up straight, looking rather fed up with me. "How does anyone else handle you two? Stop with the buts and get over there and go get a goddamned lap-dance already! Christ! It won’t kill you!”

He pushed me out from behind the bar, ignoring my protests as I scooted along the floor. “Hold on – give me – just a -” 

“I gotcha covered here. Have fun!” He winked and locked the bar door behind me.

I stamped my foot on the ground lightly. "I was about to go, you needn't have treated me like a child!" He raised an eyebrow and waved me off. I frowned and turned back towards the room at large.

I took a deep breath as I walked slowly over to the other side of the club. Towards the front of the stage. My heart was hammering in my throat. What was I doing? Was this really a good idea?

Dixie was already on stage, ready to announce the next solo. Fitz’s solo. I willed myself to take another step forward so I would be in a position where he would see me. As luck would have it, a chair opened up and I slipped in, blood pounding in my ears. I held my hands together tightly in my lap to keep from fidgeting.

“And for those of you ladies who know our regulars," Dixie boomed, not even needing a mic, "it’s my great pleasure to introduce onto the stage tonight a special treat. We have some fresh blood for you, ladies!" The crowd cheered, all but eating out of the palm of her hand. Dixie held up a finger and they quieted. "Now he may not look like it at first, but let me tell you girls that this hunk of a man has moves you would not _believe_. I had to call the fire department to be on standby tonight, ladies, because this man brings up the _heat!_ ” Dixie shouted. Enthusiastic whoops and cries rippled through the audience in anticipation. I clutched my hands tighter together, noticing my fingernails go a bit white with the pressure. This really was all ridiculous. Hunk? Moves? Heat? None of those terms were what I would have ever associated with Fitz before tonight... “So please, ladies, open your hearts, your wallets, and your laps... and give a Big ole’ Dixie welcome to _Electric Leo!”_

The women around me exploded with cheers and roars of delight as the lights snapped off. Music pumped through the room, and I tried to smooth my hands against my legs to keep the blood circulating. What was I doing? He was going to be on stage any second, and there was no way he would miss me. Oh God.

The lights burst onto the stage, flooding it and momentarily blinding me before my eyes could adjust. I squinted and craned my neck.

 ** _I'm an outlaw, Quick on the draw. Somethin' you've never seen before._**  
**_And I dare a mother fucker to come in my face._**

Goodness these lyrics were vulgar! I frowned. Seats right in front of the stage made it oddly difficult to see things at the back properly. He must be by the curtains still, waiting for a big cue to come to the center.

 ** _I got somethin' chrome. And I got it from home. And it ain't a microphone._**  
**_And I dare a mother fucker to come in my face._**

I noticed a slight rustle of fabric at the top of the curtains, but still no Fitz. The women roared louder, hoping to coax _Electric Leo_ out of hiding.

My stomach began to twist with worry. Where was he? Surely he wouldn't miss _this?_ He'd seemed to rather enjoy it before. I turned back towards the bar and Angel was frowning too. Finally, a man skirted on stage and jumped right into a thrust without missing a beat. It was not Fitz.

I stood on shaky legs and was back at the bar before I even realized I was moving. “Angel, pass me that tablet under the bar!” I barked, my mind racing a mile a minute, trying to fit pieces of the puzzle together.

“Ah, there’s a call for you,” he said, shoving the receiver of the bar phone towards me anxiously.

“Fitz?” I asked desperately.

“Jemma?” It was Bobbi on the other end. “Listen, I think we got the wrong girl. Have you guys seen anything else suspicious? The Hydra Agent's still gotta be there.”

“Why? Where are you?”

Bobbi snorted. “Well let's put it this way. Unless her big mission was to break into some guy’s house and start tossing his clothes onto the front lawn…”

“Oh God,” I said, looking down at the tablet. The map on the screen showed two distinct beacons. One across town, presumably with Hunter and Bobbi. The other was still here. In the club. “...Fitz!”

In that moment my surroundings melted away. I glued my eyes to the tablet and raced through the back door, through the stairwells, tying to get my bearings with the map and hone in on the beacon. My heart was pounding. I had no control. I took the stairs two at a time, descending into the basement as quickly and quietly as I could.

I could still hear the music pounding through the club above, along with the women's cries of joy. They didn't appear to care that their promised 'new blood' wasn't the one giving them their show. What had happened in such a short time?

I reached the lowest landing and stood still. The muffled lilt of a woman's voice was echoing around the corner. A closed door was at the end of the hall, and I knew without question that it was my destination. I placed the tablet on the floor out of my way and crept towards the door as quietly as I could. Of all the times for Bobbi and Hunter not to be here...

I stood carefully with my back against the wall and took several deep breaths, gathering myself for whatever was on the other side of that door. Then, finally, I rushed forward and swung it open. A heavy bang reverberated as I burst through the doorway.

 

 

### Fitz

I’d never seen Jemma so embarrassed. She nearly ran out of that storage room. Hunter stayed by the door smirking, looking me up and down. I shrugged and pushed myself away from the table, following Jemma back towards the bar and trying to get a hold of myself.

Had we really almost… on a mission? At a strip club? I couldn't even think the words, it was so implausible. What did it mean? Was it just the adrenaline and the atmosphere, or did she actually feel the same way I did? I mean it certainly felt… _great_ , but… I had so many questions. We’d have to find another moment. We definitely needed to talk.

 “Great, you found them,” Bobbi rounded on us, trying to look professional and not overly concerned. “Jemma, are you okay? What was all that about?”

“Hm? Oh,” Jemma flinched away as Bobbi tried to examine a red mark on her neck. I shoved my hands firmly into my pockets. That mark could have been from that scuffle Jemma got in with the redhead... but it could just as easily have been - _me_ … “No, I’m fine," Jemma pushed her hair over her shoulders to cover her neck, glancing at me quickly. "Just a misunderstanding.” Growing increasingly more flushed, she crossed her arms over her chest. I caught myself staring just in time and looked away.

Putrid cat liver! Gran in a yellow polka-dot bikini. Internet Explorer. Ikea Allen Keys. Get a grip! We are on a _mission_!

“Right, well, the girl got kicked out so we won’t need to worry about her again,” Bobbi said firmly. “I talked with Dixie and smoothed things over, so we’ve still got freedom to do our thing.”

Do our thing. Who had started our thing in the storage room? Had it been Jemma? Or had it been me? I know I certainly had wanted to, in the heat of the moment, but Jemma seemed just as for it. She had encouraged it. Obviously she _had_ been thinking of me _that way_.

“She just asked to collect her tab, so it looks like the target is on the move. Fitz, we need you in there.”

“You need what?” My eyes snapped over to Bobbi and I tried to replay what she’d been saying. “Hold on, you need me to – but my next number isn’t for at least a few more songs.”

“Improvise," she shrugged. "Flirt. Figure out a way to get close to her.”

“Flirt?” I asked dumbly. Jemma turned away, curling her fingers up the back of her neck and through her hair. She looked distinctly concerned. Now - was that concern for the mission? For my flirting abilities? Or the fact that I had to flirt with another woman? These were important questions. “You sure one of you couldn’t just…”

“Fitz, you’ll be fine, " Bobbi said. "You can be charming when you need to be. You’ll do great.”

I scoffed and looked over at Jemma. "Go on, Fitz. You'll be fine," she forced a smile to her face. It was obviously fake. Jemma was typically not the jealous type but perhaps now that...

“We’ll all be in your ear if you need a hand,” Bobbi offered, trying to encourage me.

“Actually," Jemma lifted a finger, "I think my earpiece must have fallen out while I was in the toilets…” She gave Bobbi a pointed look that did not escape my notice.

“Right," Bobbi nodded. "Well, Hunter and I will be with you then, Fitz.”

“I hate to cut this pow-wow short, boys and girls,” Hunter kept his eyes focused on the back of the club. “But looks like the target’s about to be on the move…”

I whipped my head around. The woman was tall and elegant and looked extremely dangerous.

"Now or never, Casanova," Hunter winked.

A hand rested tentatively on my shoulder as the others slipped away to their positions. I turned my head. Jemma opened her mouth and looked up at me with the biggest, most beautiful, most worried eyes I had ever seen. I fitted my face into a grin, exuding confidence with everything I could muster. “I’ll be fine,” I nodded. She took a deep breath, squeezed my shoulder, then pushed herself away into the darkness without a word.

It was just me now. Me and my mojo. I took a big gulp and squared my shoulders. I could do this. And when it’s all over, Jemma and I would… y’know. Talk.

I shook myself off and sauntered confidently across the room.

"Hey baby, leaving so soon?" I said, charm in full force. I had ambled up behind the black-haired target who had just stood. Hunter was right, she was getting ready to leave. She jumped at the sound of my voice. Apparently she hadn’t seen me coming. She recovered herself and glared down at me dangerously. 

 _"Fitz, man, relax!"_ Hunter whispered through the comms. _"She may be a Hydra Agent, but she's still human. Don't spook her."_

Right. Right. Less leaping out of thin air. She was in heels, so she was quite a bit taller. I tried my best not to be intimidated. On the plus side, she was looking at me, acknowledging my existence, which was a lot further than I normally got with most girls.

“A-And how’s your night going, beautiful?” I schmoozed, aiming for a far more approachable charm. To my brain, apparently, that meant sounding like a cowboy. Where had that accent come from? Too late, I had to roll with it. Thank God Simmons wasn’t listening to this.

I casually slipped my hands onto my hips, holding my unbuttoned shirt open. Confidence. Confidence is sexy and alluring. The woman looked me up and down, so I assumed it was working.

 _“For the love of -!”_ Hunter hissed in my ear. _“Will you put your hands down? You look like you’re posing for maternity photos.”_ I dropped my hands immediately, swinging them out in front and brushing one up into my hair as casually as possible. I elbowed her in the boob. 

The woman stepped to the side and scowled, ready to eviscerate me. “You’re in my way.” 

“’Course. Sorry,” I bumbled. I was caught between feeling like a fool and trying to be confident. And not get killed. Can't forget that detail.

 _“Don’t apologize!”_ Hunter moaned. _“Get in there!”_

“I mean, yeah, I am in your way.” I jerked to a stand-still in front of her again, aiming for cocky, tag at the ready. “What’re you gonna do about it? Missy?”

The woman was easily several inches taller than me. She looked down her nose, and in that moment I was reduced to vermin. “Listen kid, I’m sure you’re a lot of fun, but here’s some advice on your first day,” she leaned close, put a sharply manicured hand on the side of my neck and whispered into my ear. “When a girl grabs her wallet and heads for the door, you’re not getting a tip from her.”

I exhaled. She was far too close for comfort. But I suppose this was a good thing. “Maybe you’re the only girl I wanted a tip from…” I said, removing her hand and looking her square in the face.

She raised an eyebrow and after several seconds, a smile quirked up the corner of her mouth. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t follow me out.”

 _“Fitz, just tag her!”_ Jemma hissed into the comms. I froze for a millisecond. I had no idea she’d been listening in. I mean of course she would have if she found her earpiece... but… Oh lord, how much had she heard?

No time to dwell, I took two firm strides towards the target, with no real plan, and… I slapped the tag square on her bottom. Full smack. Open palm. Actually made a pretty satisfying noise. She stopped short and turned around slowly, seething with surprise and disgust. The look on that woman’s face could have peeled the paint off a wall. Somehow I managed to stay true to character and shot her a cocky wink. She sneered and walked resolutely out of the establishment.

I have never felt so dirty. But I hadn't been killed! So.

“It’s done,” I muttered under my breath, shaking myself off. “She’s tagged.”

 _“Good job, Fitz,”_ Bobbi said, sounding as uncertainly surprised as I felt. _“Hunter, you’re with me. Meet me in the alley out back. We’re following her.”_

It took me a moment to catch up with myself. It was over. I breathed and took in my surroundings. The club was teeming with women. Screaming, deliriously happy women, of all shapes and sizes and varying levels of made up. And I only had eyes for one. I watched as Jemma slipped back behind the bar, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled at me across the club. I started walking towards her. If this whole silly mission had done anything else, it had shown me that I finally had courage to tell her how I felt.

Half-way across the room though, Angel was waiting against a wall with a pair of shots. He chuckled as he saw me approaching and held one out.

“Please tell me you didn’t witness any of that,” I groaned, glancing over to the bar where Jemma was bickering with Hunter.

“Here,” he nodded to the bright purple drink. “A congratulations and some liquid courage before your big solo.”

"Right,” I stared dubiously at the offered shot. “I'd nearly forgotten about that." In all the confusion with the flirting and the tagging and the… Jemma… I still had a whole solo I’d been working all day towards.

Angel slapped my back with a big grin. “Bottoms up!”

The sharp syrupy liquid burned down my throat, and I coughed. “What the hell was that?”

“Porn Star!” He seemed rather pleased with himself.

“Now that’s vile,” I held my tongue out of my mouth, hoping to get the taste out.

“Takes hair off your chest, that’s for sure!” Angel laughed.  “…So?”

“So what?”

“Please. You shove her into a storage closet and both get dragged out looking guiltier than Pooh Bear with a honey pot. Details.”

I looked over at the bar, unable to hold back a slight grin.  “No details,” I crossed my arms. “None of your business.”

He stared and I adjusted the glass in my hand. “Fine. Don’t tell me," Angel sighed dramatically, but I refused to take the bait. An idea began to form in my mind.

It occurred to me that Angel may just be of use. If I was going to attempt to hold nothing back, I may as well do it in a big way. Who doesn’t love a grand gesture?

 “Actually,” I turned to face him. “I may need your help with something.”

***

Jemma was wiping the counters and cleaning up the spills when we approached the bar. I hadn’t realized she and Angel hadn’t been properly introduced yet, but I suppose it made sense. I waited through the pleasantries, doing everything I could to keep my nerves in check. I had just been in close quarters with a dangerous Hydra Agent and survived. I could absolutely do _this!_

“I'm here to help out!” Angel beamed. "Point me where you need me!"

"Oh! Well, that's lovely," Jemma smiled apprehensively. She looked over at me, just as nervous as I felt. "You know, I've actually got a lot of it covered. It's not nearly as bad as earlier and-"

Angel stepped boldly through the little doorway, ignoring her protests, and spun a bottle around his back. He poured a line of shots and handed it to the waiting customers with a wink. Jemma watched anxiously, but was clearly impressed when all was said and done.

She must still be flustered over what happened in the storage room. She got surprisingly nervous about these things. The old me would have quietly waited for her cue on how to carry on - but then, the old me also wouldn't have had the courage to get into that situation in the first place. I needed to do this now while I was still riding the adrenaline from my success on the mission. She noticed me staring and blushed prettily. Before she could get any more flustered, I jumped right in.

“Ah, Jemma, could we…” I motioned with my head.

“Right," she breathed. "Yes, I suppose…” So far so good.

 I put my hand on the small of her back and guided her away from the crowd. The warmth of her skin radiated through the thin fabric of her top. It felt nice. I had to concentrate on my plan so that I didn’t steer her right towards the back room again so we could finish what we’d started. I forced myself to stop in a relatively quiet corner where we could have some semblance of privacy. We both stood silently for a moment as I strung together the proper words. Finally, I just spat it out to get the ball rolling.

“I still have a dance to do and would it be okay if-”    “Listen I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have-”

“Wait, what?” We both said in unison.

“No, you first,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Okay…” I tried to read her expression. “I was just… I still have a solo dance coming up and… would it be okay if, that is, Angel offered to cover you at the bar so I could, you know… _dance_ … With you. If that’s okay…”

“Ah,” she said slowly. “Fitz…”

And then I knew. She was stalling. She was running away. Whatever had happened back there, she was going to say it was a mistake. She was going to say I'd misread things. She was going to...

“Just forget it,” I finally said, losing my nerve. “Bad idea…”

“I just think it would be a mistake is all,” she started.

There it was. A mistake. “Yeah, no, completely understand,” I shrugged, rubbing the back of my head and turning away. The bottom was falling out of my stomach. A mistake. We'd tried it and it wasn't what we wanted. Wasn't what _she_ wanted. Wasn't- But that couldn’t be all... Now or never, it was time to be bold and confident. “Actually,” I spun back around. She looked up at me with sad eyes. “No, I don’t understand at all, Jemma. What the hell?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I _mean_? I wasn’t alone in that room. If Hunter hadn’t-”

“If Hunter hadn’t interrupted, we both would have done something we would have regretted.”

“ _Regretted?_ ” I took a step back. Had I misread things that badly?    

“No, you know what I mean!” She said quickly, “I got carried away, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Fitz. Sex always mucks things up and I-”

“Is that really all that was to you? Just sex?”

There was a muffled noise, then a strangled " _Knew_ it!!" Followed by a thud.

We both froze, hearts in our throats. Then Simmons pushed a finger to her ear. “…Hunter _?!_ ”

“ _Yeah. Sorry. We're both here…”_ To her credit, Bobbi sounded apologetic. _“Looks like we all left the comms on. Just- we’ll give you two some privacy..._ ”

 _“Are you joking? They said_ Sex!” Hunter squealed. “ _We need details. What base are we talking here_?” There was another thud and then, “ _Ow! Bobbi, what the-_ ” and then silence.

I removed my ear-piece immediately and crossed my arms over my chest. Jemma did the same. I looked back towards the bar. Now would be the perfect time for a sink hole to open up and swallow me…

Jemma watched me carefully, pinning me to the spot. “What do you want from me, Fitz? Really?”

I felt my face screw up at that unfair question. I didn't know how to respond. Or, to be more accurate, I was beginning to realize exactly what I _wanted_ to say. Of course. I wanted _her_.

I looked at my feet. I’d wanted her for so long that the hope of her wanting me too had become so improbable. And those feelings that refused to fade away... It was all clicking into place, now of all times, that it was obviously more than friendship, more than a crush, more than just sex. What if, the reason all those feelings weren't leaving was because I was... There was nothing else for it. I'd actually let myself fall in love with her.

And she – God. She didn’t appear to feel even half the same way I did. Could we go back after that? After I finally knew how I actually felt? I wasn’t sure if I could. And I didn't know how to say it without pushing her away.

So I did what I always did before. I kept quiet and met her eyes. Jemma took a small step forward and grabbed my hand. “Because I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’d do if things changed between us. You mean too much to me. If we get romance involved, we’ll inevitably muck it all up. And then...”

I released a heavy sigh, making her jump a little and drop my hand. My ears were ringing and I was beginning to feel sick. I didn't want to hear any more.  “I… I better go get ready. Solo coming up soon so…”

“Right. Of course.” She just stood there, looking guilty and unsure.

“I…” I wanted to comfort her. But I just couldn't right now. “I’ll see you after.”

I marched away without looking back. I needed space to come to terms with everything. I walked straight to the back room, the correct one this time, where my costume was waiting.

***

Cat-calls from the other dancers met my ears as I approached my locker. No luck in getting ready in peace, it would seem. One of the guys nudged my arm and asked about the 'cat fight' between Jemma and the redhead. I turned and saw each face staring back intently, plastered with varying degrees of smirk. I had no patience for any of it. I glowered at them, wadded up my costume and shoved it under my arm to find a different room to get ready in.

Collapsing onto a bench in a small room down the hall, I buried my hands in my hair. God, how was I going to get through this now? Confidence was sexy, they’d said... Well that was all shot to pieces now. Why was I even trying to be sexy anyways? Simmons didn't feel the same way. I'd stupidly convinced myself that she had, and now here I was, suffering the consequences exactly like I should have expected. This was why I’d never said anything before.

At least she still wanted me in her life, unlike her previous ‘boyfriends’. I was clearly important. Just no romance or funny business. That was off the table. I sighed. And I loved her. Could I actually do what she was asking?

I picked up the costume and held it in front of me. It was pink. Glitter was everywhere. This was ridiculous! There was just so much Velcro and layers to the damned thing. I held it upside down and angrily attempted to make sense of it. Just as I bent over to take my shoes off, a creak issued from the corner of the room. I looked up, irritated, and the world went dark.

***

I had no idea how much time had passed when my eyes finally opened again. I was in a small room, I knew that much. Distant cheers and the echoed pounding of a beat told me I was probably still in the club.

"Wakey wakey, little _agent."_ A female voice taunted. I felt so groggy. A light burst on, and I blinked back from the shock of it. My eyes tried to focus. I was sitting in the corner of the small room with my hands and bare feet tied to a pipe in the wall. A female shape began to emerge before my blurry eyes, staring at me owlishly with a cocked head.

"Not you again," I groaned. "Haven't you caused enough trouble?"

"You're the one causing trouble," the redhead squinted her eyes at me. "You and your _partner_ keep getting in my way," she put her hands on her hips. "You get me kicked out. And then you camp out in the room I'm supposed to meet my buyer in! Like, hello!" She flipped her hair. "What's a girl gotta do to throw you off her scent?"

"So you _are_ the Hydra Agent," I said dully. Normally I'd be quite proud that I'd pegged her right from the start, but apparently that hadn't done the team much good this time.

"It's a work in progress, actually," she chewed at one of her long nails. "After this sale, I'll be a full-fledged member."

"Do they give out merit badges for kidnapping too?" I sniffed, testing my wrists against the ropes.

"Don't be a smart-ass," she snapped. "I figure a live Shield Agent will sweeten the deal."

"Live. I like that word," I muttered and she began to pace. "But you know my team is probably already looking for me. I should be on stage right now, so they'll have noticed I'm gone."

She looked momentarily miffed. "Well, whatever. We'll deal with that when we get to it." She continued pacing. "Besides, most of your team's gone already. And I screwed up your communications systems enough that if your pretty little bartender chick notices anything, she'll be on her own. I can totally take her one-on-one."

I frowned. It's not that I didn't trust that Jemma could hold her own again, it's just that this girl seemed to be her own brand of crazy that even May wouldn't be prepared for. She'd be just the type to fight dirty.

And she’d been the one messing up our communications? I suppose it made sense, but it also made me somewhat concerned. She obviously had more going on upstairs than met the eye to have pulled the wool over our eyes for so long. I watched her pace back and forth, trying not to let me see the number of times she glanced at her watch.

"So… how long do we have to sit here then?" Yes, I was complaining, but I think I'd earned that right. My legs were stiff from the hard ground and all the new positions I’d had to force them into all day.

"He should be here any minute," the redhead blinked. "The meet was for 11, but he's probably just tied up or something."

“Ironic," I lifted my tied hands. She rolled her eyes. "But you are aware that it’s well past 11:00 by now, right?”

“Of course, I'm not stupid!" She snapped dangerously. I should really stop taunting my tormenters, but it just came out of me.  "He’s coming," she insisted, sounding for all the world like a spurned girlfriend. She glanced at her watch again. "He’s just a bit late.”

There was something in how she said it that caught my attention, but I knew well enough that _that_ was a minefield I did not want to walk into. I tested the ropes against my wrists again and found a loop I could just shift my thumb into, if only I could work my hands around it... I gritted my teeth, realizing what I needed to do.

“So... So you know this guy?” I pushed, trying to distract her as my hands worked away.

“Mhmm…” she glanced at her watch once again, and then the door, ignoring me.

“Sure, fine. Don’t tell me," I huffed. "I’ll just sit here staring at the wall. Nothing else to do.”

"Oh stop being dramatic," she leaned over and tightened the ropes around my ankles, then looked off into the distance with a hauntingly wistful smile. It was uncomfortable. “Well if you must know, he’s my fiancé.”

“Your fiancé?" I blinked, but continued to twist my thumb between the rope as I pressed her for more of the story. That was unexpected. "Why are you selling information to a man you’re getting married to?”

“It’s a surprise!" She giggled, making me cringe. “And okay, he’s technically not my fiancé _yet_. But that’s just semantics.”

“How..?!” If I could have smacked my forehead then, I would have. “You know what, I don't even-" I tried to backtrack. Not even freedom was worth the insight into this woman's mind. I sighed. "I’m going to hear anyway, aren’t I?” My charm was a curse sometimes.

“See, I figure if I do this,” she gushed, “it’ll prove how much I love him, _and_ how much he can trust me." She definitely had the crazy eyes perfected. "Then he’s _bound_ to notice me and pop the question!”

"The amount of sense this is making is just -" she moved her face towards me in a flash, crazy eyes inches from my face. "I mean, obviously that makes perfect sense," I simpered. "Nothing says true love like destroying people’s lives."

"Thanks," she grinned. "I thought so too."

My thumb finally slipped between two layers of the rope and I began to pull at it to loosen it. I just needed a bit more.. _._ "One question," I piped up. "If you want to marry him so much, why go to all this trouble? Why not just ask him yourself?"

She shot me the most contemptuous look I'd ever been on the receiving end of. And I'd known Simmons for a decade, so that's saying something. _"Why don't you just ask him yourself?"_ She said in an ear-grating imitation of my accent. "That's what you sound like!"

I frowned. I knew for a fact I didn't sound like that. I had the voice-recorded notes to prove it.

"It's just that you seem a bit frustrated," I said, attempting the sympathy tactic Bobbi had mentioned once. "Shouldn't he already know you're worth being with by now?"

The redhead grunted. "Please! We hardly know each other! And okay, he doesn't _know_ me, know me. Like, we've hooked up a few times, but why would we need to _know_ each other?"

I'd heard a sound out in the hall, which was probably Prince Charming himself. She just needed to keep talking a little longer, then I'd get my hands free of these ropes... God, they were tight though.

"He's got money and connections, and he's totally hot in a non-threatening but totally threatening kind of way, right?" I hitched my wrist to the side, hoping she wouldn't notice the angle I'd managed to maneuver it into. She had pulled out her phone and was showing me a picture of him.

"Oh absolutely," I leaned forward and attempted to look impressed. "A real catch, that one."

"Right? Fucking Jodi and Lee-Anne can suck it!" She stood and wandered over to the door, looking at the photo fondly. There was a rustle out in the hall that caught our attention. We both looked up, then her eyes snapped down at me with my arm twisted and tangled in the rope. "Hold on, what are you-"

And suddenly, the door burst open.

The edge of it slammed right into the back of the girl’s head with a loud smack, and she dropped instantly to the ground, unconscious. Her phone went flying, shattering across the floor. I struggled with the rope around my wrists, trying to edge back into the wall in the confusion, but I hadn't had enough time. I was still stuck tight. That's when I actually looked up.

" _Simmons?_ " Jemma stood in the doorway looking wild and breathless.

"Fitz!" She smiled with relief and rushed forward, nearly tripping on the prone figure of the redhead. "Oh goodness. Is that-?"

"Our Hydra Agent," I nodded. God, why did Jemma always have to look so perfect? Despite everything, my stomach still fluttered at the sight of her. "Well, she's sort of Hydra... But do _not_ ask, the tale is way too disturbing to relive."

"Right... A-are you okay?" She knelt down beside me, checking the ropes around my ankles and wrists.

"Yeah, great," I smiled. "Untie me and we'll message in to Hunter and Bobbi."

"Right," she looked both nervous and thrilled. She reached down and began to untie my ankles, warm hands brushing against my skin as she tugged at the ropes. I held my breath and she glanced up at me briefly. When she caught my eye, she blushed and looked back down.

"Goodness, these are tight," she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You're telling me," I braced against the burn as she twisted the ropes to loosen them.

"There we are," she said finally as my feet came free. She patted my foot and looked up, smiling. "Now for the next..." She was much closer than either of us had realized. We both held our breath as the woops in the club above reached a crescendo. She blinked, blushing, and leaned back, cutting the moment off. I chewed on my lower lip. I needed to stop doing this to myself!

Jemma looked to the side where the redhead was. "Actually, hold on a moment," she stood. "Let me just..."

Simmons marched over to the redhead, leaving me there, confused, wrists still tied to the pipe. She lashed the girl’s hands together with the rope that had just been around my feet, then began to unceremoniously drag her out into the hallway. There were a number of thuds and bumps, and insincere apologies as I craned my neck to see what was going on.

"Simmons?" I called out after her, confused and alone. She reappeared almost instantly.

"That should not have felt so satisfying," she grinned with a twinkle in her eye. “She may have a few bumps in the morning.”

"Everything okay?" I gulped, hoping to get a clue as to what was happening.

"You tell me," Jemma squared herself off in front of me, putting her hands on her hips. "Fitz, you and I still have a few things to clear up."

"We what?"

"You heard me. You never answered my question before."

I felt my face burn, realizing what she was doing. "Is this really the time, Jemma?" I struggled weakly against the rope around my wrists. I should have kept at it...

"Well you can't run away from me here. So go on. What do you want from me?"

"I-I don't want anything from you," I said bitterly. "We're still friends, just as you said, and-"

"But what do _you_ want, Fitz?” she gestured to me in frustration. “I get the distinct feeling that you've been holding back, and we always promised we'd be honest with each other."

I snorted in response. _Honest!_

She took a small step closer. "Do you want something more? Because I have to admit that, well, before... that was... quite nice."

I rolled my eyes.

Jemma was fishing for a reaction from me, and I was not making it easy for her, I knew. "Well is that not what you want?" She retorted.

"Well I mean, sure,” I shrugged. “That's not a bad option, Jemma, but I just-” I shook my head. “Never mind. It'll only make this worse."

"Fitz, _please_ , just tell me what you want and I'll let you go," she pleaded.

I released an excessively long sigh. She quite literally had me in a corner. If ever was the time to be bold and confident, I really had no choice at the moment. I pursed my lips and looked right at her. "Fine. Jemma. I'm in love with you. Will you let me go now?" 

She stared at me for a long moment before responding. "You're what?" She looked stunned.   

"I know it's not what you want to hear," I grumbled. Her gaze was too searching. I felt so exposed. "But I've been trying really hard to make it all go away for a long time. And it just won't, and, well. There it is. I love you. That's just how it is."

"Oh." She said, sitting down next to me. "Well... Why did you never say anything?"

"Probably should have," I shrugged. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as she tried to piece words together. It was unbearable. "You're scared that this changes things between us," I supplied. "And it probably does, but I can't pretend it's okay to be just your friend anymore," I looked down. "If I can't, if you don't want to, then it's... perhaps we should just-"

"Fitz!" Jemma said sharply, making my head snap back up. "Will you let me speak? I just – I wasn't expecting _love,"_ she said, a bit breathlessly.  

"Oh..." I looked away, then back, feeling more self-conscious by the second. "W-what were you expecting?"

She shrugged her shoulders and let her hands flop against her knees, grasping for an explanation. "I don't know. Something a little more _need-fulfilling_ perhaps...?"

"For God's sake, Jemma. I'm not some kind of pervert," I rolled my eyes.

"No I know you're not-"

"I may be a man, but not everything is dictated by my-"

"I didn't mean to say that you were only interested in-"

"-have needs, but I've been pretty good at keeping everything in-"

"-never meant to imply that the tension-"

"-just untie me now? We can forget this whole thing-" 

"Ugh, Fitz!" Jemma finished loudly in her typically exasperated tone. I closed my mouth to keep from going on. But then she leaned forward. And she did the last thing I expected her to do. She pressed her lips to mine.

She tasted like… sunshine. She moved softly against me, exploring tenderly. It was much different than the heat of the storage room, but somehow more intimate. I leaned into her, and she drifted her hands down, gently untying the rope and giving me a last quick peck on the lips.

"If you must know," she whispered against my cheek. "I feel the same way. Always have."

All I could do was smile like an idiot, wanting our lips to be to be together again. Then my brain caught up with what she'd said. "Wait... _What?"_  

Jemma shrugged, grinning.    

" _Always?”_ I asked, finding the concept hard to process. “...Really?" 

"Well maybe not during that Halliday Cup fiasco. But yeah. Since the start," she smiled. I could only stare back, dumbfounded. "Sorry it took _me_ so long. I just... I don’t think I was ready to admit it to myself in case we ruined it. You really are the most important person to me," she blushed and pecked my lips quickly again. "Besides, I don't think I can resist much longer..." I beamed and leaned in to deepen our kisses.

"Hold on," I held up a finger suspiciously, leaning back. "How do I know you don't just want me for my body?" Jemma snorted. I did my best not to take offense. "Well, just needed to be sure," I sidled closer to her, pulling her in to me.

Then the door burst open again.

"Oh for God's sakes!" I cried, turning to face the door.

"Is everyone okay?" Hunter rushed forward, then skidded to a halt when he saw Jemma and I sitting so close. "Argh, not again!" He tried to back-track as quickly as possible without pulling his groin muscle. It was not graceful.

"What is it?" Bobbi called from the hallway, sounding worried.                             

"Don't go in there! Shield your eyes!" Hunter yelped as Bobbi dashed through the doorway.

Jemma and I stood side by side with our arms crossed. Jemma tapped her foot impatiently and fixed Hunter with her most piercing glare. "Really, Hunter. There’s nothing to see. Get a grip!"

"She's lying," his head swiveled between us and Bobbi, mouth hanging open in defense. "They were-"

"Hunter. Give it a rest, will you?" Bobbi sighed, shooting me and Jemma an apologetic look. "So she was the target after all?" She nodded out to the hall where the redhead lay, unconscious.

"Yeah..." I said, arms crossed. "Don't think she really knew what she'd gotten herself into. Great with tech though."

"Alright,” Bobbi shrugged, pocketing the thumb drive she’d taken off the girl. “We'll take her back with us. Do the whole sweep, see if the buyer’s close by."

“Something tells me he’s not coming,” I coughed. “Or if he did, he took one look at her and decided against it.”

“They knew each other then?”

“Oh that’s a long story,” I shuddered. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in _completely_ when she wakes up.

Bobbi shook her head, heading out to message in the update to the team. She paused at the doorway and looked us both up and down with a raised eyebrow. "You two okay?"

"Look right as rain to me..." Hunter muttered from the corner.

Jemma and I glanced at each other. I couldn't help but smile. "Shut up Hunter," we said as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz's Solo dance song: Lapdance by N.E.R.D


	5. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Seduction** _[si- **duhk** -shuh-n]_: To be lead astray from principles or duties. To persuade or entice someone to have sexual relations.

### Fitz

I sat on the edge of my bed, wondering for the thousandth time in the last five minutes if I should have followed her. I should have followed her.

But it’s not like we’d developed an action plan for any of this. There were no expectations. No demands. Maybe we were taking it slow after such an intense start. She certainly hadn’t _asked_ me to follow her.

Finishing our shift at the bar had been one of the most torturous activities I have ever participated in. We only had about a half hour or so before the club closed, but it was busy, and it felt like hours working side by side.

As soon as he saw us approach, Angel let out a long whistle. “And where did you two get off to?” He smirked. 

“Just finishing up with our tasks for the evening,” I replied casually. 

“Everyone in one piece? What happened?” 

“Oh yes. Not to worry," Jemma explained. "The _redhead_ won’t be bothering Big Dixie's for a long while I don’t think.”   

Angel nodded, both relieved and impressed. “Man you guys are awesome. We need you here more often,” he nudged my elbow. "We also have a bit of a rat problem. You guys do full-service pest control, right?" 

“Fortunately, I don't think we'll be much needed after tonight,” I grinned, glancing over at Jemma. She beamed her thousand watt smile, and my stomach leaped with excitement. Only half an hour. We could handle that. 

“Shame, man," Angel slapped me on the back. "We could really use your moves. Such a waste that only one person gets to see them from now on…” He nodded at Simmons, and we both coughed and spluttered. Angel chuckled to himself, far too pleased for my liking. "So you two work things out yet, or do I have to stage an intervention?"  

Jemma and I looked at each other and simply grinned, but said nothing. Angel nodded with a satisfied level of approval.

“So what drink is next?” I asked, stepping into the bar and flipping a bottle through the air with ease. Angel looked at me like I was insane.

"Are you guys seriously still finishing your shift? I figured you'd want to... you know..."

I looked straight ahead, refusing to look at Simmons. "Well, remember you've got the closing number to do still," I said. I wasn't sure if Jemma would want to go off and 'you know'. We'd discussed our feelings, but set no certain terms for the immediate future. "Go on," I said. "Can't keep your admirers from their grand finale." 

Angel looked from Simmons to me. "You should do it," he smirked.

I dropped the glass I was holding. Was he joking? He must be joking. Angel shrugged, waiting for me to respond. He wasn't joking. I held my mouth open and looked immediately to Jemma in a bit of a panic. She simply cocked her head to the side and gestured that it was my decision.

I suppose I hadn't had my chance to do my solo, and I couldn't deny that being up on that stage was both fun and oddly empowering. But it's not like I _needed_ to do it. I'd learned the skill, but there were certainly more skilled professionals in the club than me. There was also no real point in a grand gesture anymore, unless Jemma really wanted...

The audience roared as the last act finished up. Shrill whoops and cat calls from the multitudes of ladies reached our ears, and Jemma winced involuntarily. That decided it for me.

"C-Can't throw off the schedule any more than I already have," I said quickly, grabbing a broom and brushing away the glass pieces. Jemma bent down to help me and we both smiled at each other.

My days of entertaining large groups of women were over. I had the only one that I wanted right next to me, and I would enjoy every moment of it. I stood and grabbed a replacement glass as Angel rolled his eyes.

"Hey, they offer is always open," he winked as he exited the bar. 

The rest of the shift was a giant test in patience and restraint, but I managed to get through it. My eyes kept being drawn to Jemma like magnets. I would be pouring a simple cocktail and boom, my eyes were on her and I would miss the glass. I would try to hand a drink over to a customer when she’d brush past me, and I’d nearly drop the whole thing. It was getting dangerous! Thank goodness it hadn't been like this all night, or Dixie would have banned us both from the bar.

Somehow working in such close proximity to Jemma was made about a thousand times more difficult knowing that she felt the same way. You’d think it would have eased some of the frustration I’d pent up over the last few years, but no. Every time she bent over or reached across her chest, I had to put more effort into focusing on the task at hand. But I managed it. I was able to get through the night without _completely_ losing my head and my professionalism. They should give out medals for that sort of thing.

Which brought up the whole conundrum I was having again. Should I have followed her? I replayed our parting moments in my mind, wracking my brain for any subtle clues I may have missed.

"I'm just so tired. We should really head to bed now,” Simmons had said over our celebratory drinks with Bobbi and Hunter. They'd come in shortly after the club closed up and insisted we go for a round.

“Where we going now to celebrate?” Hunter had asked, bounding over to us.

I looked over at Simmons, hoping she'd give me some indication that we could skip our social responsibilities for some privacy. She blinked slowly, then turned to me and put a grin on her face.

"Have a seat while we tidy," she said pleasantly, pulling out a few beers. "How was your evening?"

And just like that, we recounted our harrowing tale and heard about the dark-haired woman they’d had to follow.

It was actually pretty fun to relive the tale, now that the danger was out of it. I hadn't even needed to embellish my part of the story that much. Reliving the events that lead to my capture and inevitable rescue was uncomfortable, but with the right emphasis, everyone was riveted. They laughed and cheered when I got to the part of how Jemma burst through the door and saved the day in one fell swoop.

"That's my girl," Bobbi gave Jemma a high-five.

This was also when Hunter began to ask questions about the state he found us in. Jemma took up the mantle of the story then, brushing past our private, intimate confessions by simply explaining why the redhead hadn't been in the room with us.

"Oh, you know, she was so close to the doorway already," she explained. "I wanted to make your job easier for you while I worked away at Fitz's bonds. They really were quite difficult." 

"Mmhmm..." Hunter stared, not believing the story for a second.  

"And what about your evening?" Jemma quickly changed the subject. "What happened with the other supposed target?"

I was having a fairly difficult time concentrating on Hunter's story, as Jemma was now particularly close to me. We were sitting on stools, and she was playing with my hands under the counter. Her fingers stroked against mine, swirling around my digits suggestively. All I wanted to do was pull her away to the supply closet again, but I didn't want to be too forward.

It was around then that Jemma caught my attention and told me she was going to head up to sleep.

“Right. I'll walk you to your room then,” I'd replied, getting up with her immediately. Seemed the right response. Polite. Gentlemanly. Room for more if more was suggested.

As we walked back together, I snuck her hand into mine as we walked, and was amazed that it made her smile. It would take some getting used to, this mutual feelings thing. When we got to her door, she nodded to me politely, and then said: “Thank you, Fitz.” And waited.

I took my cue, recognizing what point in the evening it was. I leaned in and gave her a kiss good night. It was a proper kiss, and she responded appropriately, clearly enjoying it as much as I was. But then she stepped back to catch her breath and said “I think it’s time for bed now.” Which made sense. It _had_ been an extremely long day.

So I smiled and gave her a last peck on the lips and said: “Right. Sleep well then.” And headed down the hall to my own room. I turned back to look before I went in, just to be sure, and she was already in her room. So clearly I shouldn’t have followed her in.

### Simmons

That man! How obvious did I have to make things for him? All night I’d been trying to drop hints that we should go get some privacy, shirk our responsibilities for once, but he was constantly getting distracted. It’s not a wonder it had taken us this long to get on the same page about our feelings for each other.

As soon as Bobbi and Hunter had carted off the redhead, I’d tried to make the suggestion that we maybe should think about calling it a night, but Fitz reminded me that we still had to relieve Angel from the bar. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten! I checked my watch, and sure enough we still had a half hour before the club closed.

Angel was glad to see that we were in one piece and didn't appear to need an intervention from him to sort ourselves out anymore. Not that the alternative had been any less difficult, mind you. Apparently a light dose of kidnapping was all Fitz and I needed to really get the romance going.

While being alone behind that bar again was tough on my patience and restraint, it was also quite fun. Fitz kept trying to show off. I could see the affect I was having on him, and decided to take advantage of that particular observation. Every chance I got, I would brush past him much closer than necessary. He would then freeze, either mid-sentence or mid-movement. We nearly lost more glasses and bottles than when Hunter had been back here.

Admittedly, the proximity was equally as difficult for me. I was at my wit’s end, staring at the clock intently. Was it just me, or was time going slower? By the time last call rang out, I was ready to grab Fitz by the shirt-collar and run to the storage room, tidying be damned.

Naturally, as the hordes of women finally made their exit, Bobbi and Hunter reappeared. They walked right back through the doors and up to the bar. “Where we going now to celebrate?” Hunter asked.

If ever there had been a moment during this whole mission that Hunter's life had been in serious danger, that would be it. I was ready to throttle him. But Fitz looked at me like it seemed a decent idea, so I gave in, grudgingly, unable to fully state my case for privacy in front of our friends.

"Have a seat while we tidy," I said brightly, through gritted teeth, pulling out a few beers. "How was your evening?" This would be the quickest, most incomplete cleanup I had ever attempted.

"Our evening?" Hunter scoffed. "More importantly, how was the show? You got it filmed, right Simmons?" 

"Unfortunately, there was nothing to film in the end," I said, handing the reigns for the tale over to Fitz.

In hindsight, that was perhaps a mistake. He was having far too much fun embellishing the story. Their reactions were exactly what he was after. They gasped and laughed at all the correct bits. He practically glowed the more he went on and on.

The girl really did sound particularly troubled when he got to her story. I do hope he was exaggerating that part. Thankfully he skipped over the more personal bits, however. He looked to me when it came time to explain how I found him. 

I didn't lie, I was simply selective about which parts of the story I kept in, opting to keep the private parts just for the two of us.

"What I don't understand," Hunter needled, "was why the redhead was out in the hallway. Was that entirely necessary?" 

"Oh, you know," I brushed off. "She was so close to the doorway already, I wanted to make your job easier for you while I worked away at Fitz's bonds. They really were quite difficult." 

"Mmhmm..." Hunter stared. If he didn't buy it, which he likely didn't, Bobbi's swift kick under the table pre-empted any further questioning.

"And what about your evening? What happened with the other target?" I quickly changed the subject. That did the trick.  

Hunter launched into his own tale. Apparently the tall black-haired woman had only been at the club to follow a tip that her husband was moonlighting there as a dancer. She was having none of it, and went immediately to remove his possessions from their home before he could return from an other "late night at the office."

Apparently Bobbi and Hunter gave her quite a fright when they knocked on her door for some light interrogation.

Realizing that the tidy-up was complete, I checked my watch, sitting in a stool next to Fitz, absently playing with his hands under the counter. It had been far too long, and as enjoyable as it was to share our stories, I had other far more pressing things I wanted to take care of tonight.

I rested my hand on Fitz’s knee, which caught his attention rather immediately. As clearly as I dared in front of Hunter and Bobbi, I told him that I was tired and wanted to go back to the room. I’d thought that had done the trick, especially when we got to the room and he gave me a fairly passionate goodnight kiss. But when I said it was time to go to the bed, he simply nodded and stepped away to wander back down to his room.

I watched him walk away, baffled. He must have misunderstood… How could such a brilliant person be so obtuse?

Sighing, I quickly slipped into my own room. It looked like I would have to take matters into my own hands.

### Fitz

I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. The whole mission had been, overall, a success. There had also been so many unknowns, though. It was really all just sheer luck that I'd found the right Hydra Agent and happened to be in the right room at the right time. If Simmons hadn’t burst through the door at precisely the right moment...  

I frowned. Apparently Bobbi hadn’t set herself up as the replacement buyer as well as she’d thought. The real buyer, the fiancé or whatever, was still out there. What if the redhead had given him our pictures earlier? What if he'd shown up and seen us carting her away? What if he wanted revenge? That was a fairly unsettling thought.  

I’d have to talk to Bobbi about it all first thing in the morning. It was late now. And while this whole day had been far more active and involved than I’d ever expected it to be, instead of feeling exhausted, I felt invigorated. A lot had gone wrong, yes, but a lot had also gone right. If I could just get some sleep now, then there was a whole new day to look forward to with Jemma that held so many possibilities…

There was a rustle out in the hallway, just on the other side of my door. My head jerked towards it. I stopped myself. No, I was just being paranoid. It was nothing to worry about. Everyone would have gone off to sleep by now.  

But then the rustling became far more distinct. The door handle began to jimmy. I sat straight up and scanned the room quickly. I had nothing at all that I could use to defend myself! I crept over beside the door and stood with my back to the wall as it shook quietly and then finally creaked open.  

Without another thought, I jumped out to surprise my attacker....  

" _Fitz!!"_ Jemma screeched, clutching her sweater tight to her chest and falling against the wall.

" _Jemma?!"_

She tried to catch her breath. "What the _hell_ are you-"

"ME?! What are _you_ doing creeping about like some sort of burglar?!" I pulled her into the room, glanced suspiciously down the hallway, then shut the door behind her.

"A burglar? I was trying to surprise you, you great buffoon, but the door got stuck!"

"Surprise me? Jemma, it's the middle of the night."

Jemma opened her mouth to respond, but instead rested her hands on her hips and exhaled through her nose, irritated. "Well, you didn't follow me. So I-I..." she looked down at herself, oddly embarrassed, and crossed her hands over her chest.

"Oh..." I looked her up and down too, catching on. She appeared to have touched up her make up and was wearing heels for some reason. "So you _wanted_ me to follow you?" I scratched the back of my head.  

“Of _course_ I wanted you to follow me!" She grinned up at me like I was the biggest fool. Perhaps I was. "I said it was time for bed, didn’t I?”

“Well- well I thought that meant you were actually tired!" I explained. "It was a long day, you know. A lot happened.”

“Fitz,” she looked at me with amusement and sympathy. She then leaned forward and placed her lips lightly to mine. “I don’t think I could sleep now if I tried.”  

I mumbled something in the affirmative against her, agreeing whole-heartedly.  

She laughed into my shoulder, then held open the collar of her sweater for me to glance down. My eyes fell immediately on her intended targets, but I blinked. I was really not used to being allowed to look at her like that, no less being all but _instructed_ to look at her like that. "Jemma...?"  

"Fitz," she grinned, stepping back and digging her hands into her pockets. "Could you please fetch me that chair?"

I obeyed immediately, spinning around to drag the motel chair over from the small desk at the side of the room.  

"Excellent, thank you. Just there will do." She was searching the pockets of her sweater for something.

"Jemma, what are you-?"

"And take a seat, Fitz. Please." She pulled her phone out and placed it on the side table, swiping against the screen a few times.  

"Alright..." She had something planned, and I wasn't sure ... She wasn't going to... ?

She squared herself in front of me a few paces away and smoothed down the fabric of her sweater. Soft music began to play through the phone's speakers. "Just figured I'd have a shot at it. See what all the hullaballoo is about," she exhaled. I sat back in the small chair, intrigued as Simmons began to sway on the spot. She smiled and blushed self-consciously. As the music picked up, she shifted her weight between her hips, accentuating her movements. I licked my lips.  

 **I'm on my 14 carats**    
**I'm 14 carat**  
**Doing it up like Midas,** **mhm**  

She stepped forward slowly, deliberately, then placed a foot forward and bent down, tracing up the lines of her leg with a finger, all the way up her body to her chest. I'd never really appreciated ladies' high heels before, but Jemma certainly wore them well. She then stepped slowly in a circle, giving me a 360 degree view of the girl I'd known since 16, who was now most certainly a woman. She came towards me, walking daintily around my chair so I could no longer see her.

 **Now you say I gotta touch**  
**So good, so good**  
**Make you never** **wanna leave**  
**So don't, so don't**

Her hands reached around and touched my shoulder, drawing her fingers across my chest as she walked around and behind me. Then she drew her hand up my neck, through my hair, and turned my face to look up at her as she stepped over my lap and leaned close.  

I have no idea what my expression was at that point, but it made her smile.  

 **Gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight**  
**Do my hair up real, real nice**  
**And syncopate my skin to your heart beating**  

Her fingers went to her chest and she slowly unzipped the front of her sweater. I reached out, trying to help, brushing my hands against her soft skin. But she batted me away and stood suddenly, slinking a few steps away, looking rather smug.  

 **'Cause I just wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh**  
**I just** **wanna look good for you, good for you, uh-huh**

She turned around and looked back over her shoulder as she completely unzipped her sweater, all the way down. I gulped. She held one arm out and gently, slowly, drew the fabric over her shoulder, revealing her creamy, freckled skin. I adjusted myself in my seat. She grinned and focused on her other shoulder. She clutched the edges of her sweater, shimmying the fabric down to reveal more of her shoulders. Then she smiled and dropped it to the floor in a heap and turned around.  

 **Let me show you how proud I am to be yours**  
**Leave this dress a mess on the floor**  
**And still look good for you, good for you, uh-huh**  

I was blown away. She was wearing some sort of slinky teddy thing that hugged her curves in every way I could have ever dreamed of. Oh lord. When had she packed _that?_ Was this what I'd been missing for so many years because I'd been too afraid? God I was an idiot.  

Jemma walked back towards me seductively and at the last second spun around with her back to me.  

She placed herself between my legs and started to slide down, sticking her bottom out, running her hands down her legs. I had to stop myself from reaching out to touch her. She brought her knees together and seductively crouched down in a sexy squat.

After a moment, she started to rise and turn to face me again, but she appeared to be having a little trouble. She wobbled in her heels, then grabbed onto my calves for support, but it looked like her legs were already starting to slide out from under her.

"Woops!" I lunged forward and caught her before she fell. Jemma held onto me tightly. "You know that move is a lot harder than it looks!"

"Yes, it rather is, thank you..." She blushed, refusing to meet my eyes. She tried to right herself, but a little too quickly, and she started to slide out from under me again. As soon as she regained her footing, she grumbled and kicked her heels off rather angrily.  

 "You know," I said, trying not to chuckle, "if you just bend your knees a little while you…” Simmons glared. “Actually, let me just show you quickly.” I sat her down on the bed, ignoring her protests. I couldn’t have her hurting herself when the proper technique would just take a second to demonstrate.  

"Fitz..."

I stood in front of her and leaned forward, bending slightly at the knees to keep them from locking. "See it's just a matter of..."

"Fitz, will you please just let me continue... I have this whole thing..." I turned back around and brought myself back up between her legs. "...Planned..." She trailed off.  

I grinned, feeling her breath against my face. "Hmm? Oh, right. Sorry." I straightened and pulled her back up to stand so she could continue. She appeared to have lost her train of thought.

"W-Well," she shook her head. "You do appear to be the expert in the room," she smiled coyly. "Think you could show me any tricks on how to get out of this?" She looked down at her teddy. I gulped.  

"Hmm?" She took hold of my shirt collar and started to play with the buttons. “Oh. Well. Start… slowly,” I breathed. She nodded, keeping her face close. “Place your hands in the spots you want to be seen.” She smirked, and I realized she’d already undone my shirt completely.

She pulled one of the sleeves slowly down over my shoulder and ran her hand from my neck across my collarbone. I shivered. I pulled one of her straps down and ran my fingers over her bare skin. Then the other shoulder. She closed her eyes, and I leaned in to kiss her soft freckles.  

I stopped myself and stepped back.  

"Sorry, you had this whole thing planned...” I coughed, slyly. “Please carry on!"

She blinked. Then grumbled and pounced on me. Her lips pressed hard against mine and she pulled my shirt the rest of the way off my shoulders, throwing it to the floor. She nipped at my skin. She lifted her leg, trying to crawl on top of me right there and then. I gripped onto her thigh, trying to hike her up against me.  

With the shift of the weight, we both started to fall. I grabbed hold of her and she curled against me. As we went down, the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, and we managed a soft landing.

She laughed. "We're really not that elegant about this, are we?" I grinned back. She then grabbed my shoulders, flipping me down so my back was against the bed. She then went for my belt…  

“I think a little too slow for my tastes right now, yeah?” She grinned. I could only nod. My zipper was undone and she was slinking my pants off my legs before I could blink. She threw them to the floor.

With one swift movement, she threw her knees over my thighs. I watched as she took out a small foil packet from lord knows where. I swallowed and tried my best to hold myself together as she slowly rolled the condom over me. She kissed me and I wrapped an arm around her waist. We held each other’s eyes as she lowered herself onto me slowly, as deep as she could go. The sight of Jemma bighting her lip then would be with me until I died. Seriously, I was a goner.

 She rocked her hips and I had to close my eyes, a groan escaping my lips. With shuddering breaths, her lips somehow came to mine, but we could only gasp, mouths open, as she slid her body up and down against me, pushing me deeper and deeper inside her. It was a dream to finally be able to succumb to the need we’d felt building up all day. All mission. All – who knows how long? She clutched the side of my face, and brushed kisses down my jawline.  

How could this feel so good? So right? Each move of her hip sent jolts through my body. I tried to push her back, to slow myself down, to make it last a little longer. But my hand found itself against her warm, perfect breasts instead, and that shifted us into an even more earth-shattering position. I groaned and tried my hardest to think of Scotland.  

She clung desperately to my shoulders, and my hands began to massage her chest of their own accord. The sounds of her appreciative moans as she rode me drowned out all semblance of concentration. She threw her head back and bucked against me with fervent abandon.  

It felt so good. It felt too good. The pressure was building up. I tried to call out to stop her, but by the time I managed to form my meager thoughts into any sort of communication -  

  

### Simmons

"It's fine, Fitz, really," I said again. We lay next to each other, staring at the ceiling, covers clutched tightly to our chests. I grinned to myself.

"It's just that there was so much build-up over the last few days,” he mumbled, tugging at his ear. “A lot of tension... Normally I’d-"

"Fitz. Please," I turned to face him. "It's not like we'll never get a chance to do this again!” He gulped. “Besides, I quite enjoyed myself."

He smirked. "Well that's the rave review every man wants to hear."

"Will you please stop? It's not like we both have to... _you know_ at the same time ever. Some things don't necessarily have to be in sync."

“Mm,” he hummed, rather dejected.

“What?” I rolled my eyes.

"It’s just- it's us!” he pouted. “We’re always in sync, aren’t we?"

"Well, I for one enjoyed myself,” I snipped, turning to face the wall away from him. “So if you'd quit whining and get some sleep, we can have another go once we're properly rested," I grabbed the covers and put all effort into ignoring the look of indignation that I knew was on his face. “It has been a rather long day, after all.”

I closed my eyes pointedly and bunched the covers between my knees. Between that heated practice session, the even more heated supply closet, and not to mention the multitude of small moments throughout the day, it was really a wonder either of us had lasted any time at all. The tension had been like a hot coil that burst apart as soon as it had a chance. I shifted my hips uncomfortably. Still.  

It was not the first time and it certainly wasn’t the last that my every need hadn’t been met. These things took finesse for many women, and I always had been one of them. We’d get it right eventually. I could wait for the many other chances we’d get, now that we had finally sorted ourselves out. There was a lot to look forward to, exploring this new phase of our relationship together.  

Fitz sighed audibly, clearly not eased at all. He put a hand on my shoulder and rolled me back over to face him.  

“Jemma...” He breathed.

Fitz swallowed audibly, then tentatively brushed his hand over my stomach beneath the covers. I raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what he was getting at. He bent down over me and gave me a steady kiss, then let his fingers drift down, pressing them firmly against my skin. My stomach fluttered, and the heat between my legs pulsed back to life with immediate intensity. I tilted my chin up in anticipation as his hand moved deeper, but he held my eyes and let his fingers linger against my hot skin for a moment. I bit my lip, and he slowly pushed down, grinning to himself.  

I exhaled, closing my eyes, my mouth falling open. His fingers pressed firmly into me with an explosion of intense heat. I gasped loudly and arched my back. I tried to cry out, but his mouth was on mine to swallow it. I reached up and buried my hands in his hair, rocking my hips up as he pushed deeper inside me. The feeling was all consuming.  

With every flick of his nimble fingertips, I gasped into his shoulder, licking and sucking to keep the noises from escaping my throat. I wanted more. I needed more. I looked up at him helplessly, my head falling back as his fingers danced. He smiled smugly down at me, and I could only grin in return.  

I brushed my fingers along the side of his face and brought him down into a heated kiss. My mouth hitched a few times, but I would not be deterred. He swallowed and shifted so that he was leaning over me, holding my gaze even as my mouth both fell open with pleasure. He pushed deeper and faster until I could barely take it much longer, then he made a small adjustment and a whole different wave of pleasure rocked through me.  

I hummed and moaned, and didn’t know what to do with my hands. I wanted to hold onto him and make him feel half the pleasure I was going through, but knew that he wasn’t ready yet. So I clutched his bum instead, kneading desperately into the soft flesh, doing my best not to let my hands migrate down. He suddenly growled and grabbed my hands, pushing them above my head.   

He looked down at me, panting heavily, and I looked back with a question in my eyes. I brought my hand to his cheek, but he kissed my palm and pulled it back down above my head again, holding my hands in place firmly.  

"Stay," he said, more pleading than commanding.  

I nodded, and he kissed my mouth, hot and lingering. He pushed to a kneeling position, just out of my grasp. I whimpered as his fingers slid out of me. He brought his hands up to cup my cheek, and tilted my head to the side to nibble at my ear. I closed my eyes, and he continued down along my jawline, tracing the contours of my body with his hot lips.  

My breath quickened until I was panting again. His hands skipped past where I wanted them to go and gripped against my thighs. His lips did not follow. Instead, he spread my legs wide, and trailed his tongue down the center of me. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.  

When he flicked his tongue, I inhaled, biting my lip again. He smiled into me and swirled around, pressing kisses into me and sucking gently. My reaction was loud when his tongue finally dipped its way inside me. I clutched his hair with my hand and lifted my hips, doing everything I could not to lose control and push him deeper. His eyes found mine somehow as I let out a series of desperate gasps.  

"Please, Fitz. Please," I all but begged.  

He slid his tongue along me again, and lifted his chin to smile as I tried to catch my breath. He gave me a cheeky grin.  

"More?" he breathed, his voice like gravel. I couldn’t even nod, I was simply at his command.

He pushed himself up to his knees and leaned over me adoringly. He wiped his mouth and brushed the hair out of my face. It was only for a heartbeat, but that gaze was perhaps the most intimate part of the entire evening.

He then plunged his fingers inside me again before I could think. I cried out and wanted desperately to press my lips against his. But his other hand held mine firmly above my head and he watched in awe as my face contorted with pleasure, my hips bucking into his gloriously dexterous hand.  

Finally, he slipped a hand beneath my head, releasing my wrists. We clutched at each other and he thrust his tongue into my mouth, kissing me fiercely. He shifted his weight, grabbing something I could hardly form a thought around. And then, finally, gloriously, he was completely inside me again.  

Our bodies moved together, gasping and moaning as the pressure built between us and it felt like I would somehow explode. I threw my face into his shoulder and cried out. He held me tightly as our heavy rocking slowed gradually into a steady, sleepy pulse. Our foreheads pressed together and our hearts beat to the sound of our panting. He stayed pulsing against me, pressing quick kisses to my lips every few moments.  

 “Better?” He asked. I could only happily gurgle, still unable to form coherent sentences. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him for the thousandth time already. Finally, I released him from me and he shifted. We both groaned a little as we separated. Then he was laying on his back beside me, catching his breath.  

“You know what this means, don’t you?” He sprawled out on the sheets next to me.  

“Hmm?”

“You owe me at least five bucks now, Simmons…”

I turned and faced him. "I owe you _what_?"

"Don’t you remember our little bet earlier?”  

I groaned and dropped a hand over my face. “I can’t believe you’re actually bringing this up now of all times.”

“What? I managed to give you a fantastic lap dance, didn't I?"

I rolled my eyes. "In my defense I was fairly distracted when I made that bet, so it shouldn’t be used against me,” I snuggled into his arm. “Besides, I was the one that gave you the proper lap dance in the end, Fitz, so you owe _me_ that money right back.”

“I did have to help out with that-”  

“Oh hush. You try doing those moves in heels and see how you-”

“-’ve got an excellent teacher, by the way, so really it all comes right back to-”

“-can’t believe we’re even having this discussion now, after we finally-”

“-You're right. All seems a bit complicated,” Fitz said, propping himself up on one arm to look at me. “Tell you what. I'll call it even only if you agree to my terms…”

“Your terms?” I raised my eyebrow. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

He looked down at me suggestively and waggled his eyebrows.

“You can’t be serious,” I deadpanned. “It’s just not humanly possible. Aren't you the least bit tired?”

“Come on, Simmons,” he said, throwing the bed sheets to the side. “Best two out of three!”

Fitz ran to the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simmons' song: Good For You by Selena Gomez
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading this ridiculous little story! My first foray into some real smut was a ton of fun! Thanks again to Fitzsimmonsshield for the great prompt - my 2016 springtime was a gem because of you. 
> 
> I will have chapter images ready for each chapter soon, and I'm going to try to put together a playlist of the songs these crazy kids danced to... So stay tuned! The story may be done, but there's so many more things to add on!


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